Page 23 of Twin Flames
‘I suspect it’s likely he thought we were suspicious characters and took a pot shot at me for the hell of it. We probably look more like common thieves than nobles, after our stint in Newgate,’ said George.
‘I worry we’re very predictable, heading to Willow Manor. I wonder if we might be better to try and get word to your parents and ask someone to bring the children to us rather than going all the way there. As much as I’d love to see home again, we’re not going to be able to stay long, and we may only put them all in danger.’
‘Yes, good point. We’ll put the servants in jeopardy by showing ourselves. The authorities will question them, and whoknows what trouble will befall them for trying to protect us,’ said George
‘What shall we do then?’ asked Cara.
‘Let’s figure it out when we’re on the road. I’ve got an idea, but we’ll have to see how quickly we can move and whether anyone’s looking for us.’
‘Ew,’ said Cara.
Rotting corpses were piled in a hideous heap at the edge of the street, and the stench turned her already queasy stomach. Cara slowed down to observe the real-life history lesson. This really was almost too much to take in.
‘We must not linger,’ said George. ‘There has been another onslaught of the sweating sickness. Every second counts, and it’s too late for these poor souls. Let’s not join them, but instead, make haste.’
Swifty lived up to his name and was ahead of them the entire time.
‘We’ve recruited a good lad,’ said George. ‘I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be grateful we’ve brought him along. Here we are. This is the road to York. Let’s stay off the highway and run along the hedgerows out of sight of any travellers so as not to attract unnecessary attention. When you spot someone, signal me, and we’ll spin them a yarn, and endeavour to prevail upon their hospitality.’
They picked up the pace. As the morning sun shone high in the sky, Cara noticed George losing ground again.
‘How are you feeling?’ she called.
‘Let me rest awhile. I’ll be fine in a few moments,’ he said.
He sat down on the grassy bank away from the road. Cara ran back, but before she could reach him, he keeled over on to his side.
‘Swifty, Swifty,’ called Cara. ‘Pray, come. All is not well with my lord.’
‘George, George, wake up. Can you hear me? Please wake up.’
Cara touched his forehead, a sheen of sweat coated his face, and his skin was the colour of clotted crème, not its usual healthy glow.
‘Yes, my lady?’ said Swifty, running towards them.
‘My lord is weak from the neck wound. He’s hot and clammy; I fear he’s lost consciousness. We need to get him something to eat and drink, and we must get him to York as soon as possible, or he’ll die without the hangman. He can’t even walk in this state, never mind run.’
‘The Black Eagle is over the road. I’ll go and see what I can beg there for the master,’ said Swifty over his shoulder as he dashed off.
George stirred and attempted to sit up but fell back down again, groaning, hand on head.
‘You don’t look too good. You need water to drink. You’re dehydrated.’
George stared at Cara. ‘Drink water? Have you lost your senses, my love? Are you delirious like me? Come and rest here awhile. Don’t go drinking water; you’d be better to drink your own piss. We drink wine when we can get it and failing that we partake of ale. I could do with a mug of wine right now; it would revive me somewhat, I’m sure.’
‘Swifty has gone to the inn across the way to try and procure some food and drink.’
They didn’t have to wait long before he appeared, beckoning for them to make haste. Cara helped George to his feet. They moved as fast as they could and followed Swifty down the embankment into a cluster of oak trees. He held the reins of two gleaming horses, one chestnut and one jet black.
‘What the...’ said George. ‘Where did these beauties come from?’
‘I borrowed them from the innkeeper’s stable yard. We’d better get going before he notices,’ said Swifty. He shuffled hisfeet and didn’t meet George’s eyes. He looked a little shamefaced, but there was a hint of defiance in his eyes once he raised his pointed chin.
‘Stealing is a hanging offence Swifty, but as we were fortunate enough to make your acquaintance in Newgate Prison, I suppose I’d better not judge you too harshly. Well done for your cunning, my lad. You are a loyal and wise servant, indeed.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Swifty looked pleased. ‘I know it’s wrong, but we’re not going to reach York without horses, and I was worried you would die from your wound.’
‘That’s true enough lad, no need to fret, although I thank you all the same.’
