When they were almost an hour into their set, a servant came over and stood near them. Kaitlyn signaled to Chloe to bring the song to an end.
“Lady Chloe?” the servant said, bowing toward her. “I have a missive for you. A Laird Panahasi has sent word ahead that he will be here afore sundown on the morrow. He insisted I assure you all is in place and you will be for Den-var immediately.”
CHAPTER 44
“Hullo.”
Horatius jumped at the unexpected voice. He’d let his guard down prematurely.
Billy dried his eyes and stood up straight, facing the stranger who’d appeared from nowhere. “Did you see an old humpback with someone else’s money pouch?” Billy asked.
The tall, imposing man wore a jerkin and close fitting trews. A bow and quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder, plus two knives were sheathed in his leather belt. His hide boots were well-made and well-worn. His beard was trim and his hair pulled into a queue, tied with a thin leather ligature. Though shorter than Horatius, he was still a big man. His expression was gentle in spite of his impressive appearance.
“By the Rood, was the hunchback here again? And he took your purse?”
“He promised to help us. But he took our coin and stole away.”
He knelt on one knee and leveled his face with Billy’s. “He is but an old pettifogger. Do you think I might be able to help you then instead?”
“We needed someone who knows how to do blood sacrifices. We need to break a curse. An evil curse.”
“Come on, Billy. We should get going,” Horatius said.
The man stood back up and faced Horatius. “I engaged the hunchback to clean my stable and promised to share my soup pot with him. Not only has he failed to muck out my barn, but apparently he has gone off with my donkey.”
“He stole your donkey, too?” Billy said.
“We were in front. We didn’t realize there was a back door.” Horatius said. The effort to explain was exhausting and not what he wanted to do.
“Well, I have plenty for my soup pot. Would you like to take the hunchback’s place and eat with me?”
“That would be grand. We need to rest if we are to continue on our quest.”
“Billy, the girls?”
“If you fall off Bethesda, that will really slow us down. I may not be able to get you back up there myself.”
“You look a bit ashen, friend,” the tall stranger said. “If you would let me help you down, I think a rest would do you some good.”
The buzz in his ears was getting too loud to let him argue.
The man lay down his bow and quiver and came to the mule. “I will help you down, if that is all right.”
He was as strong as an oak tree. He helped Horatius off the mule and onto the ground by a barrel near his back door. He gave Horatius a ladle of water from the barrel. The drink soothed his scorched throat.
“Do you want to help me make the soup while he rests?”
“Aye,” Billy said.
When the stranger went into the hut, Horatius opened his eyes and pulled Billy in close by the sleeve. “Be careful.”
“Dinna worry. I will be fine.” Horatius stared at him with his stern look waiting, not willing to give in to his fatigue until Billy promised to be cautious. “Aye, I will be careful.”
He relaxed his glare, blinked once, twice, and his eyes did not open again. He released a deep sigh and his hand relaxed against the ground.
Billy watched him. Da does look like ash. The brown color of his skin had disappeared and instead he was a sickly gray. With dark rings around his eyes. Billy fretted about how he would fare riding back into town. Mayhap they should just stay with the friendly stranger. Then they could wait for the humpback thief to return and get their coin back.
Laird God, sir, help Da please. And help us get the sacrifice so he can be strong again. I am quite disappointed that humpback tricked us. You might want to do something about him.
Billy waited a moment, listening, and in his innermost self, he heard, The sacrifice will come, in the fullness of time.
“Altogether benumbing. But what about the humpback?” Billy said, whispering to keep from disturbing his da. He listened again, but this time did not hear anything. “I know. He is not for me to worry about. But you must know, that is rather impossible. He stole our money. And I need it to help Da and the girls.”
Knowing he had his answer for now, Billy was content to have had his say about the thief. God never minded Billy speaking his mind.
He sat next to Da and watched him breathe.
“Here we are,” the stranger whispered when he came back out. He carried a black, three-legged iron pot. From it he dumped all kinds of vegetables onto the ground then filled the pot with water from the barrel, moving carefully not to wake up Da. With a burning stick from the hearth inside his hut, he lit a fire beneath the pot.
His sharp knife sliced right through the vegetables, making them into bite-sized pieces.
“What is your name, lad?” He handed Billy a long thin carrot.
The bright orange stick looked delicious. Billy’s stomach made a long growl. He took the carrot with a nod of thanks, rubbed it against his shirt to knock off a couple chunks of dirt, and bit down on it. It was sweet and snapped with a crisp click when he bent it between his back teeth. He kept it far from the new space where his tooth used to be. It was a bit sore there, though he was not going to admit that to Da. He would worry overmuch.
“Billy,” he answered around the chewing. “What is yours?”
“Hugh.”
Billy inhaled a chunk of carrot. He coughed and Hugh pounded on his back. Tears dripped down his cheeks. When Billy could breathe again, he wiped his cheeks dry with his sleeve.
“You are Hugh? We thought that humpback was Hugh.” Was this the man who had held him as a bairn? He was a giant improvement over the humpback.
“You were looking for me?” Hugh picked up a turnip and whittled it into the pot.
“Do you remember Grisel Fergusson? Back in Glamis?”
“Aye. The baker’s wife.”
“You are Hugh!” His chest vibrated, his heart was pounding so hard. “We came to find you because Horace—he is my da now—he got a bad curse on him and we need a blood sacrifice to break it—an angel told me that—and Grisel told me you even killed bairns sometimes and so we came to find you to buy—which we canna do now because the humpback stole our coin—a sacrifice so we can go save Chloe and Kaitlyn—not that we want you to kill a bairn—who got kidnapped and we need to save them and help them find their way back home—Panahasi,” he had to slow down to say the name right, “is going to do terrible things to them—”
“Whoa there lad. Slow down. I canna follow all that. But first and foremost, I dinna kill bairns.”
“Grisel said—”
“I remember Grisel Fergusson—a rather malicious gossip, I think. I would not put a lot of trust in anything out of her mouth.”
Grisel a gossip? That was what Da had said. Was it a lie then that Hugh held Billy on his knee? He took another bite of carrot, but it did not taste as good anymore. Billy just had to know the truth.
“Grisel said…you used to hold me on your knee. And…you liked me.”
Hugh stopped filling the pot and smiled a wide, perfect smile. “Is that you, then, Billy McFarland? Aye, I certainly did hold you as a wee lad. And I was right fond of you. My, how you have grown into quite a brave lad, aye?”
The blood rushed into Billy’s cheeks, all hot and tingly. He stood taller and squared his shoulders.
“I have been on a lot of adventures of late.”
“And I am sure you have come out just fine every time, aye? You have a brightness in your eyes, Billy. You are obviously a clever one all right. Your Da must be very proud.”
The heat grew hotter in his cheeks. It was pleasing to have Hugh speak so.
Hugh skinned his rabbit, chopped it into chunks, and dropped the meat in the pot. He pushed around th
e flaming logs beneath and got them burning hotter.
“It will take a good long time to let that cook. Do you want to help me clean the stable while we wait? We could work out a trade for what you need.”
They spent the afternoon mucking out the stable. Then they repaired the stable roof. Billy liked laboring alongside Hugh. It gave him the chance to show how hard he could work. Every so often, Hugh returned to the soup pot and stoked the fire. He stirred the soup with a big, smooth stick hung by the back door. Before he came back to the stable, he squatted next to Da and watched him breathe a few times, probably just to make sure he was not dead.
Billy liked Hugh. He was relaxed and easy to talk to. Billy watched him shovel and matched his movements, trying to chuck each shovelful the same distance at the same time as Hugh. He meant to earn every penny needed for the sacrifice for Da.
When Hugh stopped to wipe his brow, Billy did the same, showing him he was just like a grown man. While they worked, Hugh asked him questions about his life back in Glamis. Sometimes, it looked like Billy’s answers concerned him, but other times, he just laughed—a wonderful thick laugh. I am sure I liked this Hugh when I was a bairn. His laugh makes me happy to hear it.
Da slept through all of their work and talk, not even snoring. Billy checked on him a few times too, just to make sure he was still breathing.
When the soup was finally ready, the sun shone low through the trees. The steam from the soup smelled like rabbit fat and onions. Billy’s mouth watered and his stomach would not stop rumbling now.
“Want to wake up your da so he can eat, too?”
Billy shook Da’s shoulder. “Da? Do you want to eat? It smells really good.”
Da’s eyes opened, but they did not look focused. He looked at Billy then Hugh, then back again at Billy. Billy waved.
It took Horatius a full minute to figure out where he was.
He struggled to sit up straighter and caught a whiff of the soup burbling over the fire. He took several deep sniffs. Billy ran over to the pot and waved over the steam.
“How long did I sleep?” he said, repositioning against the barrel. “It feels like forever.”
The stranger said, “The sun was there,” he pointed up, “when you fell asleep, now it is over there, so I would guess a good four or five hours. We got much work accomplished while you slept. Your son is a good strong worker.” Though a surprise, it sounded fine to hear the stranger call Billy his son.
Billy beamed his baby teeth—the ones remaining—at Horatius for Hugh’s compliment.
“Any sign of the hunchback?” Horatius asked.
“We dinna need him,” Billy said, pouncing down next to Horatius. “Hugh is here! And I worked to earn our lost coin.” He jumped back up and bounced over next to Hugh, pointing up to his broad chest. “Hugh is from Glamis, my village. He knew me when I was a wee bairn.”
“Everyone in the village helped take care of him after his folks died. Grisel Fergusson insisted she do the most. Then I had to leave. I am glad to see he has been well taken care of.”
Horatius accepted a bowl of hot soup from Hugh. Billy got his next and paced about the yard blowing into his bowl.
Horatius blew on his first spoonful then nibbled a potato.
“Did Billy tell you what we need?”
“Aye. The curse. Break it with an atoning sacrifice. Not something I do, I am afraid. Not one of the holy sacraments. The closest I have ever come to that is killing a rabbit for my supper. Not exactly the Eucharist, aye? Just something to keep from starving.”
“Do you think we might be able to work something up, just this once? I really need to get my strength back. Some young ladies are counting on me. I could talk you through it.”
A squawk and beating of wings drew his attention to the barn. Billy had swapped his bowl for one of the pigeons walking around the yard. It fought against the constraint. Billy’s hands were stretched out in front of him, keeping the bird’s beak and talons away at arm’s length.
“We can use this,” he said with his neck extended back as far as possible, keeping his face away from the writhing fowl. His eyes were the widest Horatius had seen them yet.
“It took a lot to bring that bird back to health. A fox bit her wing off. It would not feel right killing her now.”
Billy tossed it aside with stiff arms, obviously relieved to let go. It was just as happy to be rid of Billy. It squawked loud and long while flapping its one-and-a-half wings. Gray feathers floated through the air and dander caught the sun’s rays as it drifted through the slanted beams.
Billy retrieved his soup bowl and sat close to Horatius.
“What about the other ones? There surely is one that you would part with,” Billy said.
“I think what you need is a Muslim who is still in the habit of blood sacrifice. I can give you hard coin for the work you did today.”
“Do you know a Muslim?” Billy said. He laid his hand on Horatius’ knee and left it there while spooning with the other hand from his bowl on the ground.
“I stay away from town as much as I can, and they stay away from me. I dinna know who is where or even what kind of faith is practiced down there. I just keep to my own business as best I can.” He took a moment and concentrated his look at Horatius. “Although…”
“You know something, I can tell,” Billy said jumping up and leaping toward Hugh. “I can tell. You do, aye?”
“It has been awhile. And it was only a rumor.”
“I think we may be desperate enough to chase a rumor about now,” Horatius said.
“You dinna seem strong enough to chase anything, so I am hesitant to say.”
“Please, sir, say! We need to know.”
Hugh set down his bowl, placed his palms on his thighs and leaned in. “There is a man. People say he sells goat cheese. And they say he worships Allah, sacrificing a goat every year to commemorate one of his holy days.”
“We saw a goat man,” Billy said enthusiastically, jumping back and forth between Horatius and Hugh. “We saw him!”
“It was only a rumor. And most likely not a fresh one.”
“We saw the goat man. I was sure he was a Saracen as soon as I saw him,” Billy said, looking at Horatius hopefully. “Did you not think that?”
“Your imagination is getting the better of you. We saw several goat herders. None were foreigners.”
Billy spun back to Hugh as though he would confirm what he wanted. “I did see him. There was even blood on his sleeves, I am certain. You believe me, aye?”
“Aye, lad,” Hugh said, ruffling Billy’s hair. “I believe you think you saw him.”
“Whether or not that is who we saw, at least we know there is someone near who might help,” Horatius said. “We will go to the market tomorrow. How many old Arabs selling goat cheese can there be in one small medieval town?”
CHAPTER 45
Panahasi towered above the shriveled old man who sat across from him on the floor of the tent. Hussein twitched and blinked repeatedly under Panahasi’s scrutiny. He was much more nervous than Panahasi would want, but he had the reputation to find the sorceress, which was all that was needed.
“I need to communicate with the world beyond, but I need a witch skilled in the arts. I cannot abide an amateur. Too much is at risk. The reward will be generous.” Panahasi spoke in Gaelic because Hussein had been too long away from his homeland to speak Arabic fluently.
Hussein’s shoulders twitched and he blinked hard twice. “How much? I…I...I mean, I just wonder how skilled of a witch shall I afford you?” He blinked his watery eyes again. “I wish to find the best your coin can—”
Panahasi was squeezing Hussein’s throat before thinking. But he did not let go, his fingers digging into the sagging flesh, knowing a little fear should help secure his terms. “Just get me the best.” When he released the soft neck, Hussein sucked in a raspy breath, twitching and jerking worse than before.
Panahasi threw a limp sack of coins into his lap
. Around wheezes and coughs, Hussein opened the sack and looked inside. “My wife—” He coughed and twitched several more times. “She is skilled. She will do what you need. But I am not sure this is enough.” He blinked his eyes tightly, squeezing water of out the corners.
An audacious little fool. Panahasi expected he would capitulate easily after the assault.
“It is enough. For now. I will give more if I am satisfied. How do I know your wife is truly what I need? That you are not trying to deceive me?”
“No, no, no,” he said in a rush. “She is the best. I did not realize at first you meant to secure the best is all.” He twitched while waiting for Panahasi to speak.
“If you lie, you will die.”
“I would never lie to you.”
Panahasi narrowed his eyes at him and let the glare linger to drive home the point he meant what he said.
“I need her to do a summoning,” Panahasi finally said.
“My wife is very adept at such arts.”
“I must arrange to deliver a soul to the Prince of darkness. The spirit she summons to deliver the soul cannot know I am the one asking. There is a certain demon who cannot know of my arrangement or location.”
“You ask a risky contact.”
“Are you saying she cannot do what I desire?”
“No. No, no. It is just…if anything goes awry, it will cost more.”
Panahasi sat on his hands to keep from grabbing the shriveled man’s throat again. He had no time to find another sorceress. He would have to make this work. And it wouldn’t work if he killed the man. “It will be tonight. She will summon an Escort. She must make certain none other knows. My location will remain concealed to any others in the spiritual realm.”
“Will the principal be willing? Without consent the consequences would be too great. She will not provide the summons without cooperation.”
“Of course. It is all arranged. I will meet your wife by the bridge on Low Woods at midnight. We will find privacy in the forest.”
“I will instruct her in all you have said. I will send her to the bridge to meet you. Do not fear. You will be well pleased with her.”
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