Page 64 of Stay with Me

But if she found more holy water and used it to keep her 1382 body alive, would she be content living in the past for the rest of her days? Or would she eventually regret making the decision? Would being with Nicholas make up for everything she would have to give up—her career, the conveniences, the security, her friends? Would she regret not finishing her search for Dr. Lionel? What about Dawson?

A slice of bitterness pricked her. Dawson hadn’t cared about her for years. And if she died, maybe he’d finally regret driving her out of his life. Maybe. But probably not.

She pushed herself up and groaned at her dilemma. The decision she had to make was heavy and hard. Either way—whether she attempted to return to the present or stayed in the past—she would need holy water to have any chance of surviving. And in order to search for holy water, she had to get better at riding a horse. That had to be her first order of business for her time in the village. And the second was similar. She had to become better at using a bow and arrow, since the methods of self-defense she’d learned in modern times might not be as useful in 1382.

With another grunt, she swung her legs over. She fumbled for her boots only to find that one had disappeared under the bed. She knelt on the hard earthen floor and peered into the dark space. She was surprised to find that it was crammed full of containers and what appeared to be medicinal bottles.

She’d gathered that many monks and nuns were trained to be doctors of a sort, that often the poor would seek out medicalcare as charity from a local abbey rather than having to pay a physician. Was Father Fritz the doctor in this community as well as the priest?

Perhaps he’d been able to bring his medicines with him when he fled from wherever he was serving before being accused of spying. No doubt he’d shoved all the items under the bed when he’d vacated the home for Nicholas and her.

Grabbing her wayward boot, she sat up. She couldn’t live in this place by herself—not without Nicholas, and not when the village was counting on Father Fritz to be available to help doctor them whenever they needed it.

Even as she slipped on the boot, she tried to ignore the empty ache at the center of her chest, the one that Nicholas had occupied and filled to overflowing. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself and make good use of the time he was gone to find holy water. If she didn’t, she would surely die.

~ 24 ~

Nicholas couldn’t shakethe premonition of impending doom. Not even the sight of the coast ahead eased his unrest. Normally he appreciated the magnificence of the white-chalk cliffs that rose several hundred feet above the coastal water that was as calm and clear and blue as the sky. But not today. Not after failing to locate and draw the attention of Simon’s men. After two days of searching, Nicholas hadn’t come across them and had finally conceded that they’d left the Weald altogether.

He’d decided to ride on to Dover and take advantage of the lull to seek out Walter to cipher the numbers from Simon’s missive. Once there, word was sure to reach Simon of his whereabouts.

Breathing in the scent of seaweed and brine, Nicholas pushed his mount onward toward the town with Dover Castle rising above it. Every time he visited, more work had been done to fortify the walls to protect the people from French marauders. The presence of ships farther out in the Channel attested to the king’s fleet patrolling the sea, keeping watch for French raiders who were a danger to English vessels and towns.

But as far as Nicholas could assess, everything was peaceful with no signs of peril from the enemy without.

The trouble for him this time wasn’t from without. It was from within. His own brother sought to eliminate him just as he had every other Worth man. Although Simon would never take responsibility for the death of their brother as well as cousins, all had perished in accidents he’d orchestrated. And now Nicholaswas the last remaining relative who posed a threat to Simon’s progeny.

Simon needed to be held accountable for his crimes. At the very least, Nicholas couldn’t let him obtain the victory this time. Simon very well might have if Sybil hadn’t set him free. She’d given him a second chance to bring about justice for himself, his family, and all those Simon had hurt, and Nicholas couldn’t squander it.

Earlier, when he’d passed through Folkestone and visited his goldsmith friend, he’d learned Simon had sent couriers all throughout Kent to spread the news that Nicholas had escaped from prison and was wanted for treason. If that wasn’t cruel enough, Simon was offering a sizeable reward for bringing him in alive.

The friend had urged Nicholas to remain in hiding, not to show his face in Folkestone or Dover. But Nicholas couldn’t trust anyone but himself to deliver the numbers to Walter. He just prayed the numbers really were a code. If not, he’d be back at the starting point with finding evidence that Simon was the one working for the French and not him.

The road widened and grew busier with those coming and going to Dover’s market as well as to the city’s harbor. As one of five coastal Cinque Ports, the town abounded with travelers and merchants.

Nicholas slowed his horse and pulled the hood of his cloak farther over his face. Though it was late in the afternoon, he didn’t have the option of waiting until the cover of darkness to venture into town since the gates would be closed. No, he needed to enter now while the traffic was heavy so he wouldn’t draw attention from the guards in the gatehouses or on the town walls.

He slid from his mount and began to lead it, attempting to blend in with the crowds. Biggin, the northern gate, wouldalso be busy since it was where the road from London and Canterbury entered town. Such a thoroughfare was heavily traversed, used by royalty as well as church dignitaries. As a nobleman, he’d be less noticed there.

At least he could rest in the assurance that Devil’s Bend was safe. Perhaps on the way out of Dover on the morrow, he’d drop a hint that he was continuing along the coast, drawing Simon’s men even farther from the Weald.

He would do anything to keep the people there from harm. Even more, he needed Sybil to be secure.

“My wife,” he whispered, as sharp need mingled with sharp pleasure at just the mention of her.

All throughout the past two days of being apart, his thoughts had gone back to her continually—his first visions of her when he’d been in the dungeon, her aid in escaping from Reider Castle, her bravery in leaping from the castle into the moat, her strength and stamina in keeping up with him as they ran through the Kent countryside to get away. He’d recounted their wedding and the feasting afterward, the night holding her in his arms, two blissful days of spending every waking moment with her, every look and word they’d exchanged.

Then there were the kisses. Even as he imagined the feel of her lips against his, he ached for another opportunity to kiss her. A part of him was relieved he’d stayed strong and hadn’t pressured her into more. But another part wished he’d taken the chance to be with her as man and wife while he could...

Always at the back of his mind was the nagging worry that maybe she wouldn’t be there when he returned. She hadn’t been able to give him the reassurance he’d sought. What if while he was away, she was called back to the time and place from whence she’d come?

As he passed through the gate, the heavy odor of salted and drying fish permeated the air, along with the ever-present tang of the sea.

The bustling entrance rang with the calls of a town crier as well as a group of boys with sooty faces who were approaching important-looking men, calling out offers to direct them to an inn and to care for their horses.

Merchants mingled about, selling wares from their shops. Their narrow townhouses rose three or four stories in height, allowing them to conduct business on the ground level with living quarters above. The bottom half of each large shop window was lowered, providing a counter to display goods, and the top half was hinged up to allow for a shelter.

All around were signs of the destruction from the earthquake a fortnight ago—crumbling walls and piles of rubble, although he’d heard that Canterbury had suffered the worst and that outlying towns like Dover hadn’t been affected as significantly.

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