Small Magics (33 page)

Thomas, caught completely off guard, managed, “I wasn’t wearing it today—”

“And just as well,” declared Madeleine, “or the judge would have gone directly over to your father’s side.”

“Mother!” Thomas’s volume rose slightly. Madeleine fell silent, and the worry that the joking hid came back to her face. Thomas squeezed her hand again and repeated. “Thank you. For everything.”

She smiled at Thomas and squeezed his hand. The worry was still plain on her face. “Get this sorted out and come home soon, will you?”

“If I can, Mother, I will.”

Neal drained the last of his mug and rose. “We should get going.”

There was a moment’s general confusion as they all rose and said their good-byes. Thomas, not wanting them to go, protested. “Surely you can stay a while longer.”

Neal shook his head and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I’ve got to get back to the business, and mother needs to get back to the convent.”

“Forgive me for hoping that you don’t stay there,” said Magda, embracing Madeleine. “We’d miss you.”

Madeleine smiled, squeezed her friend, then stepped away. “Thank you.”

They took their leave, and Thomas stood long in the doorway watching them go. Even after they were out of sight, he remained, watching the empty road. Eventually, Magda came up behind him. “Are you all right?”

“As right as I can be,” said Thomas. “Did you know I haven’t slept a night in my own bed since I got here?”

“Well, hopefully that will be remedied soon,” she said. She turned back to the now-empty kitchen and began to pick up the mugs from the table. “What will you do for today?”

Thomas shrugged and picked up his mug before Magda could get at it. “Wait, I guess. There’s really nothing else for me to do.”

“Then go help the boys in the forge,” said Magda. “That will keep you busy until nightfall, and by then you’ll be too tired to worry about anything.”

“That,” said Thomas, “is a very good idea, though more likely than not I’ll be in the way.”

“You just get changed, then go out,” Magda said. “There’s always something to be done.”

And there was. Lionel and George were delighted to have the help— especially George, who was nearly a week behind in his work, thanks to their trip to Lakewood. They set Thomas to hauling water from the well and coal from the pile, then to working the bellows to keep the forge hot. The roar from the flames kept talking to a minimum, and the heaviness of the labour kept Thomas’s mind as far from his problems as he could manage. The day passed in sweat and coal dust in the blistering heat of the forge. Thomas, who had considered himself strong and fit, was exhausted by the time dinner arrived, and could barely lift his arms to wash them.

“Not bad for your first day,” George said as they cleaned themselves at the pump. “Why, another few months, and we could put some meat on those chicken wings of yours.”

“Another few months and you’d kill me,” Thomas protested. “I’d forgotten how hard all of that is.”

“How many years has it been since you helped out?” Lionel asked. “Five, six?”

“Five, I think.”

“Still, a good day’s work from you.”

Thomas smiled. “Consider it my room and board.” A thought struck him. “Your money! You’ll be wanting that back, I think.”

“Now, we gave that to you,” said Lionel. “We’ll not be taking it back.”

“You gave it to me to use if I ran off,” Thomas countered. “And since I’m not running anymore, I can give you what’s left back easily enough.”

“Hang onto it for now,” Lionel advised. “When the trial’s over, then you can give it to me.”

Thomas opened his mouth to argue further, but Lionel stopped him with an upraised finger. “No arguments,” he said. “Now hurry up and get washed or you’ll be late for dinner.”

Thomas, who hadn’t felt so hungry in several days, took that advice to heart.

Chapter 15

The world was pitch black when a rough hand shook Thomas awake. “Get up, boy! Quick!”

Thomas, who had only managed to achieve sleep moments before, tried to push the hand away, and was shaken even harder for his efforts. He blinked, focused his eyes, and made out Lionel’s profile in the darkness of the loft. “Lionel?”

“Get up!” The hand hauled him out from bed and upright. His clothes were thrown at him while he struggled to gain his balance. “Get dressed, get your gear, and get downstairs, fast!”

Thomas, who still wasn’t truly awake, did what he was told, scrambling around the loft and pulling on the road-worn and tattered clothes he’d been wearing while working at the forge while Lionel shook George awake. Lionel kept hissing at them to hurry, and practically pushed them out of the loft the moment they were dressed.

They stumbled down the ladder, bleary-eyed, with Lionel coming down behind them with their travel bags. He herded them into the kitchen. Thomas, holding onto his sword-belt with one hand and his cloak and boots with the other, was about to ask what was happening, when Magda led Eileen out of her room. Eileen’s skirt was crooked and her blouse untucked, and her hair tied up for sleep. She blinked blearily at the boys and stumbled forward, one hand on her stomach. Magda threw her daughter’s bag on the floor, then started tucking in her blouse.

“What’s going on?” demanded George, his voice surly. “I was asleep.”

“And a hard time I had waking you up, too,” Lionel snapped. “Get your boots on, all of you!”

George grumbled, but did as he was told. Thomas stumbled over to a bench and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, and sat down to pull on his boots. There was a quick, quiet tapping on the door, and a whispered, “Magda?”

Magda, now helping Eileen with her bodice, shoved her chin at Lionel, who went to the door and pulled it half-way open. “Inside, quick!”

Thomas stopped, his boot half-way on, to stare as his brother slipped in through the door and hurriedly close it behind him. “Neal? What are you—”

“No time,” his older brother hissed. “Get your boots on. Fast!”

Eileen, now dressed, stumbled to the bench beside Thomas and began pulling her own boots on. George attempted to ask a question and was promptly told to be quiet. Lionel doused the candles and stood, silent, in the middle of the room. They all followed his example and waited.

“There,” said Lionel. “Hear it?”

“Hear what?” Thomas demanded. Then he heard it: voices, talking together, and the sound of many footsteps, coming closer. “What is that?”

“It’s the bishop’s guard,” Neal said. “They rode in just after sundown and headed straight to our house. They’ve got a warrant for arrest for the three of you.”

“They can’t!” Thomas’s head was clearing fast. “They need the Reeve to arrest us.”

“Not for witchcraft.”

Thomas swore hard. “Does Mother know?”

“She’s still at the convent.”

Thomas stood and wrapped the sword belt around his waist. Lionel tossed George his stick and Magda gave her children the knives they’d taken to Lakewood. “Take your bags,” said Lionel, grabbing up their walking sticks. “This way!”

All three grabbed their bags and followed Lionel to a window facing the woods. He threw the shutters open. “Out. Get to the woods and keep moving. They’ll never find you if they don’t know the area.”

“But what about you?” Eileen protested.

Her mother shushed her and pushed her towards the window. Eileen winced and clutched her stomach, but Magda kept her moving. “We’ll be fine,” Magda said. “We’ll say you left at sunset. Now go!”

George went first, then turned to help his sister through the window. Thomas went next, and Neal took up the rear. Moving as fast as they could in the dark, they crossed the yard and slipped into the woods. Thomas glanced back and saw torchlight, yellow and ugly, lighting up the night behind them. George grabbed Eileen’s hand and hissed, “Form a chain so we don’t lose each other.”

George led them away from the house and deep into the forest. Branches whipped at their faces and bodies, and the roots and undergrowth tripped them as they ran. At one point they found themselves stumbling across a stream that soaked them all to their knees. By the time George pulled them to a stop a half-hour later, Thomas had scratches stinging his face and arms, and his ankle throbbed from one particularly nasty stumble. Eileen was biting her lip to keep from crying. The moment her hands were free she wrapped them around her stomach. George put a hand on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could as his eyes scanned the forest.

“All right,” George said. “If I didn’t lose my bearings, we should be north and east of the town, somewhere north of the old mill.”

“Which way is the road?” Neal asked. “I have to get back before anyone finds out that I’m gone.”

“Won’t they know?”

Neal shook his head. “The servants won’t say anything, and Father went with the bishop’s guards to make certain that they caught you.”

“Of course he did,” Thomas let his anger rise, using the heat of it to give himself strength. “He probably asked them to come.”

“No,” said Neal. “The guards had a writ dated three days ago, signed by the bishop himself.” Neal pressed a bag into his brother’s hand. “Here. Mother gave me this before she went back to the convent. She said to give it to you if anything went wrong. It should see you safe to another county. Or another country if you need.”

“I’m not going to be run out of the country!”

“Keep your voice down!” hissed Neal. In the silence that followed they all strained to hear sounds of pursuit. None came. “Just keep safe,” said Neal, keeping his voice low. “And stay off the road until you’re well out of town. They’ll be looking for you.” Neal grabbed Thomas in a quick embrace. “Goodbye, brother. Be careful.”

“Tell Mother I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I will.”

George gave a quick set of directions, and Neal took a moment to shake George’s hand, then Eileen’s, before turning and vanishing into the forest. Thomas listened to his brother stumbling in the dark, and hoped Neal would make it back undetected. When Thomas could no longer hear his brother, he turned to George. “Now where do we go?”

“I don’t know,” George sounded exhausted, and there was a note of panic creeping into his voice. “I can keep us moving all night but I don’t know where to take us.”

“Just keep us away from the bishop’s men,” Eileen’s voice shook with pain and fear. “They’ll hang us!”

“They have to catch us first,” Thomas said. The words sounded nowhere near as comforting as he’d hoped.

“And they will if we don’t keep moving,” said George. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas could feel panic rising up inside him. He shoved it down hard, letting his anger rise and drive his thoughts forward. “Let me think.”

The dark woods felt like they were closing around him as he stood, sifting through and discarding ideas. He listened the entire time, expecting to hear the cries of the bishop’s men, but the only sounds were the night birds and crickets, and the laboured, frightened breathing of his friends. None of the plans he could come up with seemed any better than the others.

“All right,” Thomas said at last. “We’ll go towards the city until we’re far enough that they won’t find us. Then we’ll find someplace to hide until we can figure out where to go next. Good enough?”

“Aye,” George agreed. “Pity it isn’t fall, there’d be haystacks to hide in.”

“Tonight, I’ll settle for a pig barn.” Thomas said. “Let’s just go.”

***

In the end, it wasn’t even a pig barn. After two more hours of stumbling through the dark woods, George found a small copse of trees close enough together to act as a wind-break and with enough ground-growth to conceal them from prying eyes. From the looks of the well-trampled grass inside, the little space had been used by deer in the recent past. Fortunately, none were there to dispute the friends’ claim on the place.

They didn’t dare light a fire. They could only wrap themselves in the blankets that Ailbe had given them and huddle close to each other for warmth: Thomas and George on either side of Eileen, who stifled a moan when she lay down and clutched at her belly.

Thomas lay awake, listening for the sounds of searchers, even though he knew the bishop’s men would be far away. George, as always, was the first to drop off. Thomas envied him. The man could sleep no matter what happened. Eileen was not so lucky. As soon as her brother started snoring, she started to shake, her breath becoming ragged and hitched.

Thomas reached a tentative hand to her shoulder. She started when she first felt it, then rolled her face into his chest. The move caused her to gasp, and her hands tightened on Thomas’s chest as she clung close. She shook against him, silent crying wracking her body. Thomas held her tight until the sobbing subsided, and kept holding her until, much later, she passed into sleep.

The moon was just about down when Thomas slipped out of his blanket. He used it to cover George and Eileen then moved away to the edge of the bower. Sleep was not going to come, he knew. Rather than letting his thoughts drag him through the night, he found himself a place to sit with his back against a tree trunk, and stared out into the dark woods.
Right. Now what?

Run, hide, fight. Pick one.

At this point, with exhaustion making his head hurt even as the frantic pace of his brain denied him rest, Thomas seriously considered the first two options. The temptation to run to the coast and take ship, knowing he had enough money to leave, was almost overwhelming. He could convince George and Eileen to come with him and the three of them could sail away to see what they could of the world.

The problem is, it isn’t just about me.
Thomas sighed and rocked his head back, gently tapping his skull on the tree behind him.
Eileen’s hurt, Timothy and Shamus are dead, and my Father and Ailbe…
he looked for a word to describe what had been done to them.
Robbed and twisted
came close, but didn’t seem to be enough. And they weren’t the only ones.

Thomas thought about the bishop’s words in Laketown; about a girl in Fog Glen who had needed ‘guidance.’ Thomas wondered if she had survived, and if so, what had happened to her mind.