Chloe's Guardian

by Cheri Gillard

  “What’s the plan? How are we getting home?” Chloe asked.

  “Day after tomorrow is my trial. They will have to let me go without their witnesses to accuse me of working with Gordon. We will meet on the south lawn by the gate at sundown. Do you know where that is? Then we will go into town. We will have to go to a place there to summon the help I need to take you home. Then, like that,” he snapped his fingers, “you will be in Denver.”

  “I hope it all works like you think it will. Lady Agnes plans to take us with her to her parents’ house in two days. We will need to be gone before that.”

  “Do not worry. It will be fine.”

  When Chloe and Kaitlyn left the prison basement, Pan’s fellow prisoners were yelling more gibberish. Chloe couldn’t get away fast enough.

  Not long after they arrived in their room, a quick knock rapped on the door.

  Kaitlyn opened the door.

  “There you are. I have been searching everywhere,” Agnes said. “My laird husband does not want me waiting to go home. He over-worries about the many ribald soldiers coming in from towns far and near to fight for the Queen. We must leave in a quarter hour and go under cloak of darkness. Collect your belongings and come with me.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Billy! Under all that debris. His small body was surely broken and crushed. Horatius tried to jump off the mule, but his leg would not move.

  There is no time for this! I have to get to Billy’s side.

  “Is he alive?” he shouted to the man holding the plank. “Can someone help me here? Someone, please, come get this mule!”

  The men looking down under the plank did not seem to hear him. They talked among themselves, pointing and gesturing beneath the wreckage.

  “You there,” Horatius yelled at a bystander. “Come over here at once. Aye, you. Come here and pull this blasted mule over there. Hurry.”

  The bystander hesitantly came over, moving much too slowly.

  “Take me over there. I cannot get down. Take me, please. They have found my boy.”

  That spurred him along better. He grabbed the mule’s bit and tugged. It resisted and brayed, only moving a few steps.

  Horatius watched in horror as the men threw more debris aside. The two squatted opposite each other and reached down. It was taking an eternity. He braced himself.

  Both men stood up, their arms stretched down to pull up their load. They each held Billy under an arm. His face came into sight, then his small torso.

  But Billy had no legs.

  Horatius blinked hard and refocused. “Billy!”

  Billy gave him a tentative smile, not as confident as usual, but his eyes still twinkled. He flipped his hand in a small wave.

  How can he be so cavalier? He has no legs!

  “Get a doctor, someone find a surgeon,” Horatius ordered from his perch. No one was listening. No one was moving fast enough.

  A third man kneeled on the ground next to where Billy remained suspended between his two rescuers and pulled more debris away. After a few boards and bricks, he reached down into the ground, his arm disappearing into a hole. Billy was sunken in some kind of cellar that opened in front of the building. With a couple more bricks thrown aside, the men pulled him up the rest of the way by his two spindly arms.

  And there were his two beautiful legs, still attached and as rawboned as ever.

  The men hovered over him. “Are you good then, lad?” one of them asked. “That was quite a tumble there, son,” another said.

  “Are you okay?” Horatius called to him. All he wanted was to get down and hug the boy.

  The certainty came back into Billy’s face. He aimed his delightful smile up at Horatius on the mule. Billy’s top front baby tooth was gone. A smear of blood covered his lip and chin. His red hair stood up like electricity had charged it. His face and clothes were filthy with dust. But he was a wonderful sight.

  Billy’s rescuers escorted him over to Horatius.

  “Can I come up and sit with you? My legs feel a bit wobbly.”

  “Can you get up? Help the boy, there man. Be careful, don’t jostle him about,” Horatius said.

  A man lifted him up and he got one shaky leg over the mule and slumped back against Horatius.

  “That was altogether benumbing.” Though he said it with much less energy than usual, Horatius smiled to hear him say it.

  Horatius and Billy left the others to take care of the mess made by the crazed riders and started once again to search out Hugh. It was more imperative than ever that they find him.

  Billy lifted his hand without turning around and held something in front of Horatius’ nose. Horatius had to back away to focus on it.

  “What is that?” Horatius said.

  “The answer to our prayers.” He shook a small leather pouch and it chinked. “It fell in the hole with me.”

  “Nearly killing you is not how prayers are answered.”

  “I was not nearly killed. If I had been nearly killed, I would have lost more than one tooth. That one had been wiggling some lately anyhow.”

  “Let me see that.” The weight of it in his hand was great. Should they keep the money? God knows we need it. But if he wanted to be righteous and turn his life around, maybe he should find whose coins they were.

  “We best turn this beast around and go find the rightful owners. It would be wrong of us to keep it.”

  That turned Billy around. He pulled his feet up and spun, switching them to the opposite sides so he faced Horatius.

  “What are you thinking? It is everything we need. I will not give it back. And neither will you. The angels wanted me to have it or they would not have saved me to find it. You cannot undo something powerful like that. I will not let you.” He lifted his feet again, crossed them, and in one motion, faced the front again.

  If the boy insisted like that, who was Horatius to force him to do something that probably was in opposition to some deal he had going with a Celestial?

  Instead of arguing, Horatius said, “Where is it we are going? Where is Priest Hugh?”

  “We go four more streets this way, then we turn that way and go three more. Then up the hill. He will be at the top.”

  They followed his directions. Once they reached the bottom of hill, the path turned to a narrow deer trail. A small hut sat among the trees on the hilltop. Smoke smudged a charcoal line out of the roof and across the white sky indicating someone was home.

  Billy got down off the mule and led the way, pulling the mule’s bit to encourage it not to give up and quit. The adrenaline rush from watching Billy nearly get crushed to death left Horatius exhausted. He wanted to lie down again. The incline intimidated him. Even if the mule kept moving, he was not sure he would be able to stay mounted.

  “We are almost there now,” Billy said. “You can make it.” Billy offered him his holey smile while walking backwards up the hill pulling on the mule’s bridle. The little pipsqueak was trying to encourage him. And it was working. A wave of courage pushed away the melancholy that had been seeping in without him even recognizing it. The influence that little fellow had was baffling. He’d never given much time to wee folk before. Had he been missing something so amazing all these centuries?

  “Everything is going good now.” He held up the pouch of money and shook it again while still tugging the bridle with the other hand. “The angels are favoring us, see? We have what we need and we found the place.” His grin grew, wide enough to show miniature molars lined up in neat rows. “Just a few more minutes and you will be as good as afore.” Then his smile disappeared and a serious, pensive expression took its place.

  “What is it?” Horatius asked.

  He stopped, and the mule immediately halted and began chomping the grass along the path. “Do you suppose…” He quit talking and looked everywhere but at Horatius.

  “What is it? Do I suppose what?”

  “Once you are better…do you think…could you…”

  “What?”

  He
finally looked straight at him. “Can you give me a ride in the air? I always thought it would be altogether benumbing to fly like a bird.”

  Horatius laughed so loudly and suddenly the mule startled and lifted its head.

  “It would be an honor. Of course. It is a beautiful thing to fly. Everyone should try it.” He laughed again when Billy’s gap-toothed grin reappeared.

  They got moving again, with a few brayed protests from the mule. When they arrived in front of the hut, Billy said, “Which one of us is going to talk?”

  “You are so good at it, maybe you should—so I do not scare him.”

  Billy contemplated him, looking up and down, then deeply into his eyes. “You are not scary.” He rapped on the door several times.

  The door opened with an awful squawk and a grizzled, shriveled man poked his head out. His long, greasy hair lay flat against his head. He was humped over so far his unshaven face was even with Billy’s.

  “Whachu want?” he snapped at Billy.

  Billy held up his pouch of money and shook it. Horatius flinched, thinking it a mistake to show how much they had—but it was too late. The wrinkled, unkempt old crank lifted his eyebrows to look up at the pouch held high above his gaze. His neck would not tilt upward that far.

  “What is that?” he said with a little less animosity.

  “We need to buy a pure blood sacrifice,” Billy said, as if it were an ordinary thing to order up.

  For the first time, the old man took in Horatius sitting up on the mule. Then he looked back at the small boy, like he was trying to figure out just what kind of association the giant brown man on the mule had with the tiny pale boy in front of him.

  “That will be expensive,” he finally said.

  “Excuse me a moment,” Horatius said, interrupting the negotiation. “Could I have a word with you, Billy?” He gestured for him to come over closer.

  Billy held up a finger to the old man as if to say A moment please and rushed over to Horatius.

  “What?” Billy said impatiently.

  “Is it Hugh, the priest from your village?” Horatius whispered while trying to bend close to Billy’s ear.

  “A course he is. He is right on top of the hill where the smithy said he would be.”

  “I mean, do you recognize him?”

  “No idea what he looks like.”

  “I thought you said he owed you a favor. How can he owe you anything if you never saw him?”

  “Grisel told me.”

  “Of course. Grisel.”

  “Aye, Grisel told me he used to hold me on his knee and laugh and get cheered up past any gloom he had. He said to her, ‘If ever that lad asks for anything, I willna be able to refuse. I would give him the world, I would.’ I was just a bairn. How am I supposed to remember what he looks like?”

  Horatius moaned and rubbed his hand over his face. “Really? That’s all you have?”

  Billy’s brow furrowed. “Just wait and I will show you.” He spun back around, ending their impromptu consultation. The old man jumped back from where he had stretched to overhear them.

  “I am Billy. From your auld village, Glamis. Grisel Fergusson sent me to find you. She said you used to hold me on your knee when I was a wee lad.”

  Deep throat sounds gurgled in the old man before his voice rumbled up into an audible bark. “Never haird of any Grisel Fergusson.”

  “Oh dinna worry. I know you canna admit your true identity. You have been in hiding, and we will tell no one. But we need a pure blood sacrifice. I willna call you Father Hugh and you can just do the ritual. We will pay you handsomely.” He shook the money sack again. Horatius wanted to snatch it out of his hand.

  The old man pursed his lips and pulled his pruned face into a pucker pointing at Horatius. “What horrible sin have you done? I will need to know what kind of sacrifice is needed. What kind of criminal are you? You look rather weak to me. Are you capable of, say for example, beating someone? Or killing? Is that the kind of thing you would do?”

  “What kind of priest are you that you do sacrifices? Ever since the Christ was the sacrificial lamb, you priests stopped spilling blood on altars. I have never met a legitimate priest who did this.”

  The old man’s pucker got tighter, then he said, straining to lift his fused neck enough to stare hard at Horatius, “I claim only to be a man who can supply what you need. I have learnt much over the years. If you need a Muslim who has the skills to offer a goat to the gods, I will be that for you.”

  “Do you have a goat?” Billy asked with enthusiasm.

  “We need a curse broken,” Horatius said. “An evil curse, cast by a true demon.”

  The grizzled old priest scratched his nose as he thought. “Ah, then a pure blood oblation you will need for certes. I have two young white doves. I believe that will do.”

  Billy turned to Horatius. “I knew this would work.”

  Horatius thought it a little too soon to consider the matter settled. “I hope you are right,” Horatius said under his breath.

  “I will go prepare the doves. Ah, but first, I must have the coin. Insurance you willna leave without payment, once I break the curse.” He put out his hand toward Billy with a smile he probably thought might instill trust. His stained overlapping teeth were more like a feral animal before attacking. Horatius had to constrain his urge to pull Billy back to a safe distance.

  Horatius said, “How about half now and—”

  The old man snatched the money away from Billy, leaving Horatius no chance to negotiate a price less than the full contents of the pouch. But then he realized, once the curse was broken it wouldn’t matter. There would be no need for the coins.

  “Wait here. It will take some time to prepare the sacrificial birds. I must wash and anoint them with oil. When it is time, I will come get you.” He went back into his hut and closed the door.

  Billy turned around with his wide grin glowing. “See? Not long now.” He had so much energy it almost oozed out of his fingertips. Billy suddenly hopped over to the mule and wrapped his arms around Horatius’ leg in an excited hug. “I can hardly wait!” He let go and jumped up and down. “I have never seen you but cursed and weak. Will I get to see your wings? Do you have a halo of gold, sparkling like the moon in the night sky?”

  Horatius hoped he would not disappoint him. “I have no halo, no. Those are more of an aura that full angels have for having been in the presence of They. Of God. I have not been there. I do have wings, but not as spectacular as the Pure. But you might find them to your liking.” He could not help but try to lower Billy’s expectations so he would not be let down—because all at once it was very important to him that Billy be pleased with him.

  Billy crawled up onto the mule’s neck and faced Horatius. He put his hand up on Horatius’ cheek. He rubbed the whiskers back and forth.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “What hurt? You touching my beard?”

  “Growing hair out of your face. And scraping it off every few days.”

  “Does growing the hair on your head hurt? Or a haircut?”

  “Sometimes a haircut hurts, if the knife is dull.” Billy’s hair had seldom seen a knife, that was obvious. And when it did, Billy probably did it himself, with a dull, hacking blade.

  “I never touched anybody’s beard afore. I wondered what it felt like. It is rough and scratchy.” His hand slowed down, then dropped in his lap. His eyes were very pensive. “I bet halos are an annoyance. ’Tis all right with me that you have not been to the highest heaven. You dinna have to feel bad about it. If we can just go where the birds do, that will be good with me.”

  Billy rubbed the line between Horatius’ eyebrows. “Why so worried? It will work out.”

  “I am thinking of Chloe and Kaitlyn. We cannot delay a moment once I am restored. They might be in danger for their very lives this second.”

  “I know. As soon as Hugh is done, we will take off. Bethesda can wait here for us. S
he willna mind. There is a lot of grass. We can come back later and get her.”

  Billy’s heart would break if he knew he was not coming along. Horatius would wait until he was restored and just leave. He could not risk putting Billy in danger like he had with Chloe and Kaitlyn. Billy would understand. In time. He hoped.

  “What is taking so long?” Horatius said, not wanting to chance Billy reading his mind about leaving him behind.

  Billy jumped down. “I will go check.”

  “No!” Horatius didn’t mean to shout. But he didn’t want Billy out of his sight with the strange old man around. Something about him didn’t sit well. And if Horatius was stuck on the back of the mule, he wanted Billy close. “He should be back soon.” It was difficult to keep his voice from showing alarm.

  They waited. And a pigeon walked around the side of the hut, its head thrusting forward with each step. Then two more followed shortly after it.

  “Are those doves?” Billy said.

  “They are filthy pigeons. That one doesn’t even have all of its feathers. And the other has a wing gone.”

  “Hugh must keep the doves inside since they are pure.”

  Horatius’ uncertainty about Hugh grew each moment.

  “Climb up here with me. I want to take a look out back.”

  Billy hopped up without question. He coaxed the mule to start walking and they went back behind the hut. There was a small stable built up in the hillside, invisible from the front. The mule went straight in as if it were its own barn. Horatius was on edge, worried something would jump out and he’d be useless to protect Billy.

  The stable was empty. It was clear there had been some animal recently dwelling there, for on the floor was a pile of soft, smelly manure.

  Billy jumped down and ran toward the hut.

  “Billy, stop. Do not go in there alone.” But he was already through the back door.

  Horatius struggled to get the mule turned around. He was still yelling and weakly kicking it when Billy reemerged from the hut. His posture was wilted, hunched over almost as far as the old hunchback had been.

  “He is gone.”

  Billy coming back out in one piece surpassed any care about the hunchback.