With an excess of enthusiasm, Agnes herded them to the great hall. All the tables were covered with platters or bowls or pots of food. Oat porridge, baked pastries, grilled eel—their smells swirled together into a medley of aromas. Chloe had to make herself eat, she was so distracted by the idea Pan would take them home that evening. She drank a hot spiced drink without paying attention and it burned her throat on the way down. After eating three quick swallows of oatmeal and one tiny bite of a pastry, Agnes announced, “It is time to go into town, then.”
Distracted, Chloe followed Agnes and Kaitlyn outside. They walked onto a giant green yard with a round stone cistern in its center. Imagined images of her family trapped in the burning house kept jumping into her thoughts, blocking out the buildings in front of her.
“Come on, Chloe,” Kaitlyn said, taking her hand and leading her forward.
A group of servants and guards joined the three of them. Together, they walked toward the exit across the great expanse of grass on which the many buildings of the fortress stood.
“Do you recognize where we are?” Kaitlyn whispered to Chloe.
Chloe shook off a picture of Benji sleeping in his toddler bed with flames licking up the headboard. “What?”
“We’ve been here before. Or I should say we’ve been here ‘after,’ not before,” Kaitlyn said.
The surroundings broke through her awful visions.
“See that? Picture it without the roof,” Kaitlyn said. “And that with no walls, doors, or windows.”
The ruins as she'd seen them merged in her mind with the structures as they now stood.
“And that’s where you were when you saw Horace the first time,” Kaitlyn said, clearly gleeful about being back. “So we had been—” she turned a circle to get her bearings, and she pointed at the massive building they’d just passed, “—in there when you started calling us. I love seeing this in living color! Everything is breathing and moving. And the costumes!”
Agnes waited for them up near the exit. “Are you coming?”
“Just looking around,” Chloe said, picking up her pace.
“This is Dunnottar! Your castle is fantastic,” Kaitlyn said. “I love it here.”
“Aye, it shall be here later, but market day will not last forever. Let us go.” She turned and led them on with a happy bounce in her step.
“You’re right,” Kaitlyn yelled to her. “It will be here later. Much later.”
***
At Market Square, the three stepped down from the wagon and joined the throng of people shopping among the many carts and stalls set up in rows across the big grassy park. Agnes found a cloth merchant and had him display several bolts for Chloe and Kaitlyn. When they didn’t choose fabric Agnes liked, she took over and bartered for better, higher quality cloth and for the trims and ribbons that would go with them.
Chloe and Kaitlyn walked around while Agnes completed the transaction. Market Square was like the Renaissance fair. Only it smelled a lot stronger. Somehow the manure, bodies, and food were more pungent here. Several merchants had fires blazing with different pieces of animals sizzling over the flames. Kaitlyn gagged when the breeze shifted and the smoke from a nearby roasting pig drifted into their faces.
Chloe hurried Kaitlyn away to get her out of the smoke. They found a section of the square with no animals cooking. A stall with necklaces and bracelets hanging from pegs on a cart caught Kaitlyn’s eye. She pulled Chloe over and tried on a bracelet and held it out for Chloe to admire. It was hammered yellow metal with small embedded colored beads.
“Isn’t it pretty? But my hands aren’t. Look at my cuticles. They’re a mess.”
“Tomorrow I’ll buy you a manicure,” Chloe said. “We’re going home.” The nerves in Chloe’s stomach flared. She didn’t know if she could wait that long.
“I have just what you need, m’lady.” A woman came from a stall next to the bracelet cart. “I shall show you.” She took Kaitlyn’s hand, pulled her to her own stall, and started massaging a yellow cream into her skin.
“Ooh, that feels so good,” Kaitlyn said. “Cello, come here. You have to try this. She's giving free samples just like that store in the mall.” She closed her eyes and relinquished her whole arm to the woman.
“Dinna yeh walk away with m’ armlet,” said a scowling woman from the bracelet cart to the woman with cream who took Kaitlyn.
The woman kept rubbing Kaitlyn’s arm but as she did, she slipped the bracelet off, and tossed it at the other woman.
“Nasiha, she was at my cart, not yers.”
“Keep to yourself, Evina. You heard yourself she needed cream for her skin. Do not push me.”
“Wot? Will yeh curse me again?”
The one with the cream kept a hold of Kaitlyn, though Kaitlyn wasn’t relaxing any more. Their sharp tongues had opened her eyes.
The one called Nasiha said, “Aye, and it might be worse.”
“Ha! I have an amulet. Yeh canna cause me harm this time.”
“Your amulet is worthless. What are a few herbs and feathers in a leather pouch against me?” Her eyes were slits, but she didn’t let go of Kaitlyn’s hand.
The one called Evina became nervous and clutched at something hanging around her neck beneath her bodice. It seemed Nasiha had named her good luck charm.
“I think that’s good now,” Kaitlyn said. “Thank you.”
Nasiha changed her expression to a soft, caring smile. “Oh no, dear one. Your other hand needs the same care.” She secured Kaitlyn’s other hand before she released the first. She dipped into a crock on her cart for more cream and kneaded a fresh dollop into Kaitlyn’s other hand.
“We should go.” Chloe looked around for Agnes, hoping she would come soon and help them get away.
Nasiha turned her charming face to Chloe, but an edge in her voice told Chloe who was in charge. “I am not done. And after this lady, I will do your hands.”
Chloe instinctively moved her hands behind her back and locked them together.
Having pulled her good luck charm from her shirt, Evina held it in her hand now. “I saw that tall Saracen coming from yur tent. I ken yeh plan something evil again. I heard all the plans through yur tent wall.”
“Tall Saracen?” Chloe said, her nerves coiling into high alert.
Evina whipped around to face Chloe, apparently pleased to find someone interested in what she had to say. “They summon devils and talk to spirits. They sacrifice and eat children.” She pointed a fat finger at Nasiha while her other hand worried the leather pouch around her neck. “She is evil. They both are, her and Hhaw—” A rush of air exploded from her throat as though she’d been punched in the gut. Her eyes bulged wide and she bent in the middle like a pain was cutting her in half.
“She must have had bad meat,” Nasiha said. “Come away, dear. Let me show you my balm for your skin. It comes from sweet goat’s milk.” She acted as though nothing had happened.
Evina stumbled beneath the canopy behind her bangle cart and collapsed onto a short stool while her husband yammered at her in what sounded like Gaelic, waving his arms and scolding her. Chloe watched them, but when he saw her, he yanked down a canvas flap to hide them from her view.
Chloe turned back to Kaitlyn, where she’d been pulled to the other side of the lady’s stall.
“Pay her no attention,” Nasiha said. “She is always like that. She is sick in the head.”
“There you are,” Agnes said, walking up behind them. “Where were you off to? Ah, the goat balm. It does miracles. I need more. I will take a portion today,” she told Nasiha. “You should try it, Chloe. It is glorious.”
Chloe hardly listened. Her skin tingled. She tried to process what she’d heard. Had the woman been about to say “Horace”? Was Horace planning evil things with this woman, this nefarious woman who obviously would do anything to get what she wanted? Would Horace, who she’d put all her hope in, really be wicked and horrible, and abandon her in a medieval century while her family died
in the future? What else could it be? Was there any possibility that Horace wasn’t her worst nightmare? Was what Pan said trustworthy? Was he any better than Horace? Was he the tall Saracen? Who could she believe? But no, she hadn’t started to say Pan. She clearly started to say Horace.
Oh, she needed tonight to come as soon as possible. If Pan came and took them back, she’d know, and she could get to Benji and save him. And her whole family—her family who Horace had left to die in their burning house.
“I need to go back!” Chloe said. They all looked at her, startled by her outburst.
“Are you ill?” Agnes said. “You do not look well.”
“What’s wrong, Cello?” Kaitlyn finally extricated her hand from the woman and grabbed Chloe’s hand in her own.
“Buy my wonderful milk. It will settle a troubled stomach,” the woman called after them, but Chloe had already left, pulling Kaitlyn back to where they’d left the wagon.
CHAPTER 47
“Good morning,” Hugh said. “Sleep well?”
Horatius opened his eyes, having trouble getting his thick, heavy lids to lift. He felt worse than before he’d fallen asleep.
Billy popped up like he had not been asleep the second before. “We are going to find the goat man today.” His endless energy was unfathomable.
“I bet you are famished,” Hugh said. He ladled the previous night’s soup out of the cooking pot and handed a bowl to Billy. Then he offered a hand to Horatius and helped him sit up against the barrel again.
“Would you like some ale?” Hugh asked Horatius. “I made it myself but it is not half bad.”
His mouth watered and a deep yearning stirred. Oh, to take the edge off all the frustration and anxiety. Ale would be sweet to the soul.
Then the conviction came. “Thank you, no. Just some water again will suffice.” Somehow, he meant to refrain from drinking from that time forward. He just had to.
“I am afraid I have bad news. The hunchback found my money and took it, too. I have no coin with which to pay you for the lad’s work. What can I do? Do you want me to come with you to town?”
Horatius shook his head. “We won’t trouble you more than we already have. I have the idea that if all else fails, Billy can try the sacrifice for me. He carries a small knife. We can sharpen it. He knows how to catch a rabbit. If we don’t find the Arab, I think we will fare well enough. I can talk Billy through the ceremony. Then all will be well. I am certain.” Hugh gave him a dubious look. “Really. We will be okay.”
After they broke their fast, they thanked Hugh for his hospitality. Billy led the mule from the stable over to the barrel next to Horatius. Hugh helped him to his feet but he could barely take weight on his wobbly legs. Spots dotted his sight. He had to bend over the mule’s back a few moments before he could let Hugh help him mount.
He settled into the curvature of the swayed back. Holy tribulation! I don’t know if I can do this. Hugh tied a length of leather to the mule’s bit for Billy. Billy pulled the mule into an amble and Horatius wondered how long he could stay seated.
“We will come back and see you once we get all this worked out,” Billy called to Hugh when they reached the trail that led back into town.
They traveled in silence. Horatius had no stamina to talk. It was out of character for Billy to be quiet, but it was too much to wonder about that either. He concentrated on balancing and not falling off on the steep slope. He could not wait to get his power back and take flight. He swore this would be the last time he ever rode an animal. Flying never seemed like such a wonderful privilege.
The smell and noise of the town reached them before they saw it. Once it came into view, it bustled with activity. The market day was in full throttle. The previous night’s absurd idea that it would be easy to find the goat herder dissolved. Carts, tents, and stalls arranged in rows created the pathways that overflowed with shoppers. Masses of people and numerous animals clogged every lane. We’ll never find anything in this multitude, especially not an Arab who probably doesn’t want to be found.
Billy led the mule through the pressing mob. He was away the full length of the mule’s tether, pulling hard to keep it moving, which it was reluctant to do with such a large crowd. A few times Billy tossed comments back to Horatius, but Horatius couldn’t hear him through the tumult. Billy moved through the crowd with determination and left no slack in the lead, shoving through the people, pulling the mule with all his strength.
Whenever a bleat sounded over the din, Billy whipped his head in the direction of the noise. Horatius followed his gaze and scanned for goats. So far they’d been roused by four sheep, a crying toddler, and some strange chicken. But no goats.
A commotion in the one lane drew Horatius’ attention. Billy pulled the mule over at his command and they stopped to watch. A plump woman was being carried away on a cot. Her color was bad enough to make Horatius believe she was already dead. A short, stocky man wrapped in a kilted tartan walked alongside her cot shouting Gaelic and flapping his arms. Horatius shook his head in disbelief to hear the man scold her about not working at their stall hard enough.
Then Horatius heard it. A ringing bell and bleating goat. It was an unmistakable blat. A woman—obviously a middle eastern woman with a brown hijab wrapped around her head and neck—was manning a stall with large wedges of cheese, crocks and buckets of milk products. Behind her tent, four grazing goats were tied to stakes.
Billy leaned hard on the tether and coaxed the stubborn mule to the goat stall.
“Excuse me, woman,” Horatius said, working to sound strong and stable, neither of which he felt. “I was told I could find a person here who could perform a certain rite for me.”
“What are you doing here?” she said in a harsh whisper. “You should not be here. My husband said we do not meet until midnight.”
Horatius set his face to give nothing away. She thought he was someone else and he didn’t wish to change that until he knew why. “That is not what I understood.”
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “I swear all is well. I took care of the nosy woman who overheard the plan.”
“What did she hear?” He hoped she would reveal what the secret was.
“She will not talk again.”
Horatius bore his eyes into her to make her uncomfortable and let something slip.
“I understand your conditions. I will not allow any fool woman to know of our plans, nor the spirit to know of your location. Your passage will be secure.”
Horatius tried not to let his face show any change. She was protecting someone’s location and arranging passage. It had to be another Nephil, and one for whom she mistook him. Panahasi! From whom would he want to hide his location? Who would care where he was but Satarel? If he intended to hide from Satarel, he must be planning to go to the Prince. So this was how he had decided to use the girls. To end his banishment, he was going to offer the girls to the darkness. He meant to offer the girls to Lucifer.
“What of the principals? What do you know?” He needed to find the girls before midnight. “What did you say that others may have heard?”
“I have said nothing. I swear. My husband told me nothing.” Perspiration glowed on her upper lip. Her nerves were fraying. He didn’t want to scare her away. He wouldn’t press her into flight. He needed to keep her from changing her plans or he would not be able to find and stop Panahasi.
“You have done well. Until tonight, then.” He gave her a two finger salute. He looked up, wondering where Billy had wandered. He scanned the crowd. He took a breath to yell out for him. And his eyes landed on Chloe, who was standing at a wagon not fifty yards away staring right at him.
CHAPTER 48
Before ducking into the wagon, Chloe’s eyes landed on a tall dark man on a mule at the goat cream stall. For a fleeting second she thought it was Pan. She hoped beyond hope it was Pan and not Horace. But then he turned. It was Horace. He was speaking to that evil goat woman. The woman the other one said had pla
nned awful things together with Horace.
She crouched into the wagon as quickly as she could.
“Agnes, please, we have to go now! I’m going to be sick if we don’t hurry back.”
Agnes stuck her head out the open door and said, “Colin, take us back. Quickly.” And she pulled the door closed.
The wagon jolted to a start and gained speed. The sounds of the crowd behind them faded. Chloe tried to keep breathing. She’d seen Horace. And he was planning horrible things with that evil woman!
***
“Billy, Billy.” Horatius called for him, but couldn’t see him anywhere. He tried to knock his heels into the mule’s sides, but he had no strength. The mule started anyway somehow, perhaps eager to leave the crowd. The rope from its bit dragged below them, trailing between the animal’s legs as the mule rambled through the mass.
Every few seconds Horatius called out again for Billy. He finally saw him at a cart where a man gave away free samples of meat on small skewers.
“Billy, come here,” Horatius shouted as loudly as he could, which really had very little volume. Billy turned in his direction, his mouth full and sauce dripping down his chin.
When he saw Horatius, he leapt into a trot and wound his way over.
“Da, they have the best—”
“Billy, chase that wagon. Hurry, it’s almost out of sight. Chloe’s in there.”
Billy didn’t wait for more explanation but took off like a spooked rabbit. He zigzagged through the crowd, using his small stature to his advantage, weaving around the many people. From atop the mule, Horatius saw his red hair bob up every so often among the people. Then Billy broke free of the edge of the square. He sprinted along the path leading out of town like an Olympian. His little arms pumped at his side and his feet pounded the ground. He even raised a plume of dust as he raced.
Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1) Page 31
