Occasionally, in the west, the sunlight flashed on the sea. The shrine was in the hill country north of Maria's castle, and their way home led them over the steep little hills, half-covered with brush. Side by side, the two girls rode out of the yard. The straw basket hooked on her arm was full of apples for their dinner. Hermits lived up there, safe from the world, close to God. While they arranged themselves around her, she looked up at the steep hillside above the cave.

She knew none of the knights' names she saw them only in groups, all doing the same thing. They were lining up at the far end of the meadow, next to the road, and she nudged her horse toward them. This year her father had sent only six knights with her, keeping back the rest for some other purpose. Elena was no older than Maria, but she was always able to talk to men, even strangers. Behind her, Elena spoke smoothly to the monk, assuring him of Robert Strongarm's good health.

The monk hurried around to hold her bridle for her. Maria mumbled some answer and went past him toward her horse. 'I hope your gracious and most mighty father is faring well this spring?' His pale fingers counted the purse expertly through the leather and dropped it out of sight in his sleeve. Elena helped her settle her wide hat on her head and tie the ribbons under her chin. Maria pushed the maid's hand with the offering toward the monk. She reached Maria's side, digging into her basket for the gift of money. All smiles, the monk started toward her, and the maid with the heap of Maria's cloak and hat followed after. Across the little yard, beneath the beech trees, Elena was standing with the monk who served the shrine. The knights and their grazing horses were scattered over the meadow and down the slope in the sun. She genuflected to the Virgin and went out the door into the cool spring sunlight. For a few more prayers she struggled to bring it back, but the clammy cold and the sounds of the men outside the cave distracted her. The dank air raised gooseflesh on her arms. She closed her ears to the noise and willed the womanly stone face above her to soften and call her into a marriage with God. Down the slot in the rock that led to this cave, her escort talked and shuffled their feet. The raw stone floor was damp and uneven beneath her knees. She asked for the rescue of the Holy Sepulcher from the Saracens, for her father's good health and salvation, and for her own call into the holy life.

Kneeling, she began the prayers she had come here to say. In the gloom of the cave, her flowers were the only color. She laid the vivid little blue blossoms down at the foot of the Virgin and smiled into the statue's face. Other pilgrims offered silver at the shrine Maria brought an armful of wildflowers.

Great maria cecelia holland