Mulled Wine and Hailstorms

The 3am crack of thunder woke everyone in the room. Not that anyone said anything, of course. But I could hear the change in breath, the awareness as ten pilgrims listened to the rain outside the two single-pane windows and thought about the coming day. We were in Astorga, a city of moderate size tuckedContinue reading “Mulled Wine and Hailstorms”

The Story of Rio Salado

“In a place called Lorca, towards the east, runs a river called Rio Salado. Beware from drinking its waters or from watering your horse in its stream, for this river is deadly. While we were proceeding towards Santiago, we found two Navarrese seated on its banks and sharpening their knives; they make a habit ofContinue reading “The Story of Rio Salado”