STORY 3 - FUCKING THE LONELY WIDOW

Michael felt hazy in the desert heat; the blow to his head during the battle had done its damage.

He stumbled towards the spot of green on the

horizon, hoping that he wasn't imagining it... If he hadn't been so dry in his throat he would have shouted the Lord's praises as he reached the green bushes, seeing a house in the interior.

Perhaps it would belong to one of the infidels, one of the Muslims that he had come to fight in order to win back the Holy Land... but at this point he didn't care. Whether they killed him or helped him, his journey was finally at an end.

He fell to the ground, hearing shouts and wondering if he was dying... if so, where were the trumpets and the light? All he saw were running feet and flying sand... and then darkness.

He awoke much later with a cool clothe on his head and a wet spongein his mouth, keeping it moist. Female voices murmured around him and with a jerk he sat up.

The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life was at the door, shooing away another younger woman.

She was about his age, dark-haired with golden skin, dressed very modestly in long flowing robes that were made of a light material; they encompassed her body, but the wind blowing against her molded the fabric to her body.

Smiling with open hands she stepped forward, showing that she was unarmed. Michael wondered how she could smile at him... he remembered with sudden shame the women and children who had died when the cities

were razed.

Although he hadn't taken any part in the atrocities he had done nothing to stop the ones that raged on around him.

Still, there was nothing in her smile but welcome, and he wondered if she even knew what he was… although she must, the English style of armor was quite distinctive.

"Hello," she said her voice soft and accented, "You are awake. My name is Hannah."

"You're Jewish," he gasped, recognizing the root of the name.

She smiled again, "There is Jewish blood in my ancestry, but no I am Arab and Christian. My family converted a long time ago." Michael relaxed, knowing now that there was no danger.

A Muslim might turn him over to be tortured or executed, the same went for a Jewish person who was happy under Muslim rule (and there were plenty of those at the moment, the Muslim yoke lay lightly on their necks as they were People of the Book; perhaps one day that would change but for the moment it held

true.).

As an Arab Christian she would be suspect just for having him, possibly punished for treason even if she didn’t help or harbor him...

actually hiding him gave her a better chance at escaping punishment for treason than turning him in did.

"Where is your husband?" he asked, "I would like to greet him and thank him for his hospitality.” She would not be the head of household, no matter how welcoming she was to him currently; the decision to have

helped him had to have come from her husband.

And he had no doubt that a beautiful woman like this would be married at her age.

Again that soft smile, he thought that he could watch her smile all day... lucky husband whoever he was. But she informed him, "He his dead these past two years, killed by bandits in a sheep raid."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, truly regretful at any pain that he might have caused her.

For some reason, he was determined to keep that smile on her face; and was rewarded for his words when it stayed.

"It is fine... now get some rest, I will send someone to check your bandages." It was only then that he realized all his armor, clothes and weapons were gone; but he immediately spotted them propped up against

the wall.

Smiling at him she turned and went, her footsteps light... he couldn't help but feel that the room seemed much less bright without her.

A few days passed and then a week. He found that he enjoyed her company greatly, and even though he was getting better he didn't want to think about leaving.

There was one thing that he was uncomfortable with, and that was the shocking amount of ethnic groups and religions that mingled in her household.

Without trading with these people she wouldn't be able to live, but he still felt strange

whenever he was introduced to them... and he didn't like how they regarded him with suspicion and fear.

Not that he could blame them, but when he saw just regular merchants and families regarding a good Christian knight that way it brought back memories of cities after they'd been sacked and the atrocities against innocents.

He was starting to wonder if the Crusades was even a good venture... here in this household people didn't mind mingling with others of different religions... why couldn't people just share the Holy Land?

Somehow, here it seemed possible.

But those were deep thoughts, thoughts that he didn't want to be bothered with so much anymore.

As long as he could stay here anyway...

here where Hannah was. She was beautiful in every way, a truly good woman and obviously much respected by everyone who came to her house.

No one ever snubbed her or said anything harsh about her; many men came to court her but she turned all of them away with a smile... he only met one such man but he knew from her servants that many more came.

As for himself, he just felt lucky to be able to look upon her; seeing her lustrous black hair and tanned skin, the dusky rose of her lips and the dark pools that were her eyes.

There was something infinitely sad about her,

perhaps the loss of her husband when she was so young, and he made it his daily duty to make her smile as often as possible.

When she smiled, everything sad seemed to lift and the room was filled with brilliance.