The Remainder of the Night
"That was a lovely story, my dear," commented the Spaniard's wife.
"You tell a heathen tale!" accused the Spaniard. His wife hushed him with the words: Keep your thoughts to yourself.
"It is a story from my land, where not every soul believes in the One. However, my mother taught me to love God. I found it appropriate for our travel."
"Even the wise need answers..." the Russian mused in thought. "Could it be that our guide is taking the simple road, instead of facing the problem directly?" The three thought over those words a few moments. Finally the Russian broke the silence.
"I will follow you across the river, Egyptian, however ludicrous it seems," the Russian declared. The Egyptian nodded at him.
"My husband and I will follow you in your decision, young lady," the Spaniard's wife announced.
"Are you insane, wife?" the Spaniard glared. "This river will be our death. It is wise to follow the procession. Remember: keep the straight path!"
"No, husband, the procession is straying from the straight path. Straight before us is the river."
The Spaniard sighed wearily and reluctantly agreed that he and his wife would forge their cart and venture across the river with the little Persian girl, the Egyptian, and the Russian. Their conversation lasted long into the night until their flame was the last to be extinguished.
The following morning, the pilgrims started for the rising sun - east. The priest noticed that the troupe of five stayed behind and headed for the shores of the river. The priest, atop his steed, ventured to the new clan and questioned their actions.
"We're crossing the river," answered the Egyptian, mounting her horse.
"Are you reforming from my authoritative decision?" chided the priest.
"If you mean not moving east, than yes," replied the Egyptian.
"I will have you arrested and charged!" retorted the priest in an exalted tone.
"On what grounds?" questioned the Spaniard.
"On the grounds of blasphemy to the name of the Catholic Church and to Saint Bernadette," listed the priest.
"You will do nothing of the sort!" laughed the Russian. "You good Christians, flaunting your sanctity! Pathetic..."
With a huff, the priest turned his horse to the east and trotted to the lead of the pilgrimage.
"Well, young man. It may be a blessing for your company in this journey after all," the Spaniard praised.
It was a task pulling the cart and mule through the water, but luckily the water was not extremely high at that season, and it made for easy crossing. The Spaniard's wife took the Persian into the river and bathed her, washing the filth from her hair and the cakes of dirt from her skin. What a lovely child, the Spaniard's wife thought to herself after drying and clothing the young girl; and indeed after being cleaned, the Persian was a beautiful child, and she had expression to her face! The Egyptian pulled the Persian up onto her saddle and rode with the girl in her arms for a time. The girl squealed with delight at the thought of being up so high, and she smiled and laughed. The Russian and the Spaniard argued for hours on thoughts of philosophy, politics, religion, and wine.
Having traveled for the day they reached a point where two paths diverged into a forest. One path heading straight and one meandering to the right. Not knowing which path to take, the five travelers rested for the night. After supper, the five sat quietly contemplating which path lead to Lourdes.
"Which road shall we travel by tomorrow morning?" questioned the Russian. "One leads to Lourdes, the other... only the good Lord knows."
"I say we take the one traveled more, you see the right path is more trampled and trodden... it seems the best to travel by," said the Egyptian.
"But because something appears to be one way, could easily be opposite," replied the Persian girl with sleepy eyes.
"Truly, the child is correct," nodded the old Spaniard. The others looked at him uncertain of what he said.
"Pardon?" the Russian said.
"I know which path we should take," the Spaniard clarified.
"And that is...?" the Egyptian pressed.
"The straight one," the Spaniard muttered easily, sipping from his wine cup.
"And how, sir, are you so sure that the straight path will lead us to Lourdes?" questioned the Egyptian.
"Let me, too, tell a tale. This tale is from Spain, my wife's and my land of birth," started the Spaniard.