Page 30 of The Forgotten
Thomas glared at the men at the front and they hesitated, afraid to offend a nobleman. Thomas held up a flat stone and showed it to the crowd. “The boy hit his head on a stone when he went down,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “He’s been knocked senseless. Step aside. He needs to lie down somewhere quiet until he recovers.”
Thomas lifted Edwin gently. The crowd parted, allowing Thomas to walk through unchallenged. Some were still muttering but didn’t dare to say anything out loud. Lord Devon had the power to ruin their lives if he chose to do so, and it wasn’t worth the risk to anger him. Alfric trailed behind Thomas, whining that he never meant to hurt no one and it was all just a bit of fun.
“Go home, boy,” Thomas growled as he cleared the crowd of onlookers. “You’ve done enough damage for one day.”
Petra stumbled toward Thomas. Her heart pounded with fear, and her legs felt like jelly. She reached out for Edwin and touched his face. It was flushed but cold to the touch. “Edwin,” she whispered.
“I’m all right, Mother.”
“Come, let’s get him inside,” Thomas said. He carried Edwin to the house and set him down in front of the fire where Lady Blythe was dozing up until that moment.
“What’s this then?” she asked, staring at the boy seated across from her.
“Nan, bring Edwin a cup of hippocras,” Thomas ordered. “And some bread and cheese.”
“Mother, Edwin hit his head and was taken ill,” Thomas explained. “He needs to rest for a moment.”
He grabbed another chair and set it by the fire, pushing Petra into it before she collapsed. Petra felt as if all her insides had been scooped out and dumped on the hearth. This was what she’d dreaded for the past ten years. Their secret was out. Edwin’s fit would be the talk of Dunwich tomorrow, and soon enough someone would set the priests on them. What would they do to Edwin?
Thomas knelt by Petra’s chair and took her hand. “Mistress Ordell, all will be well. Edwin was taken ill, that’s all. No one will say a word about this, if they know what’s good for them.”
Lady Blythe gave her son a shrewd look but refrained from saying anything. She’d find out what happened later, probably from Robert. Thomas wouldn’t say a word; she was sure of that.
“I thought you went to a tourney,” Lady Blythe said, watching her son. “What were you doing on the green?”
“I got bored,” Thomas replied, his tone curt.
“Is Robert still there?”
“How should I know?” Thomas replied without looking at his mother. He was saved from more questions by the arrival of Nan, who brought wine, bread, and cheese. Thomas poured a cup of hippocras and handed it to Edwin.
“Drink it all.”
Edwin took an experimental sip. He’d never had hippocras. It wasn’t the drink of poor people. He appeared to like it and drained the cup, clearly hoping for a refill. Thomas obliged but told him to eat some bread and cheese first. He then poured wine for Petra and placed the cup in her hands.
“I think it’s time for me to retire,” Lady Blythe said. “I would have had Nan prepare something for your supper, but you said you wouldn’t be home and I just had some broth and bread,” she added reproachfully.
“Sleep well, Mother,” Thomas said. He barely noticed his mother’s pique and seemed relieved when she shuffled off to bed.
“Petra, are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for your help, Thomas.” She didn’t know what else to say. Perhaps Thomas really believed that Edwin had hit his head and the shaking and foaming at the mouth was the result of that trauma. It was best not to disillusion him and let him draw his own conclusions. Thomas poured himself a cup of wine and took a long sip.
“I must go get the girls,” Petra said, springing from her chair. Edwin never had more than one fit at a time. He was safe now and needed to go home. Elia and Ora were still out there on the green, and it was growing dark and dangerous. Men had been drinking for hours, their blood up after watching contests of strength and bawdy plays. They were still young girls, but old enough to draw the eye of someone who was bent on mischief.
“Go on then. I will walk Edwin home once he’s fully recovered,” Thomas offered. “You’ve no need to worry about anything, Petra,” he added softly. “I will look after you.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” Petra whispered and fled. She should have felt relieved to have the protection of Lord Devon, but instead she felt indebted and trapped by his good intentions.
THIRTY
FEBRUARY 2014
Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland
The day was mild for the beginning of February, the approach of spring just discernible in the air. The wind of the previous day had died down, and the sun that played peek-a-boo with the clouds held just the tiniest bit of warmth. Gabe gazed out the library window, his eyes never leaving Emma, who ran around happily with Buster. Graeme Russell did his best to keep up with his granddaughter as he threw the ball across the lawn and cheered Emma to get it before the puppy did. Emma was laughing, her cheeks rosy with cold and her yellow wellies flashing by as she ran after the puppy who barked happily. Buster hadn’t had this much fun since arriving from the kennel just before Christmas.
“Fancy a cuppa?” Phoebe Russell asked as she came into the library, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea and a plate of freshly baked scones.
