by Kim Allred
Michel looked doubtful. "Maybe you were working for the bad man."
Finn glanced at Ethan for help. How could they convince this young lad, who obviously knew of the monk and held him in high esteem?
"Michel, do you remember stories about that day?" Ethan asked.
The boy nodded.
"Did anyone tell you about the ship that sailed the coast and shot cannon at the monastery?"
The boy's eyes grew round, and he nodded again.
Ethan pointed to Finn. "This is Finn Murphy, the captain of the Daphne Marie. His ship fired that cannon as a diversion so we could surprise the duke. Do you understand diversion?"
Michel's face turned red. "Of course."
Finn laughed again. "Then I think we can be friends too." He rubbed his jaw, glanced at Ethan who shrugged, apparently out of suggestions. The boy was smart and had seen the fog. How far would the boy's beliefs run? "I know our arrival was not normal. The fog is deceptive. This may be hard to believe, but it helped us travel a long way, but we weren't able to bring our horses. Do you understand?"
Michel thought about it, then replied with a simple, "No."
This time both men laughed so hard that Michel began to laugh as well.
Finn held his side until his laughter quieted. "We don't know how it works either, but here we are, and we need to find a way to the monastery. How far away is it? What direction?"
Michel thought about it and pointed to his left. "North. It's a full day's ride by cart. When Sebastian or one of the other monks visit, they arrive after dinner and stay the night."
Finn felt some relief. If they walked hard, they could get there in two days. By horse, they could be there in less than a day.
"Is there a town close where we can get a room and rest for the night?"
"Only Saint-Malo if you're going to the monastery. There's another one closer, but it's south of here. It only takes Papa half a day to get there."
Ethan grumbled something under his breath.
Michel continued to run his fingers through the mud, creating circles and then long wiggly lines. "There's an old farmhouse not far from here. No one lives there anymore, so it's in need of repair." He shrugged, but it was obvious he was trying to help. "It will give you a place to sleep. Papa is gone with the cart and won't be back for another few days. I'm sure he'd take you to the monastery when he returns."
"That's too long. We could walk to the monastery by then." Ethan picked up his duffel. "Let's try the farmhouse. We can at least get out of this rain and figure out our next move."
"How do we get there?" Finn asked.
Michel jumped up. "It's on the way home. I can take you there, but you have to follow me, we need to bring the sheep with us."
8
Finn rolled onto his back and stared at the patchy roof. He was grateful he'd found a spot away from drips or that didn't pool with water. Ethan had settled on the other side of the small shelter and appeared to have his own struggles with sleep. If Finn had ever thought in the last three months that he missed his own time, all he had to think about was their large bed at the inn with AJ nestled in his arms. What had they been thinking to follow Ethan back? They should have handed him the Heart Stone and wished him luck.
That would have meant abandoning his sister. Again. That woman got into more trouble than all of them combined, always needing someone to come to her aid. His parents had coddled her too much. He couldn't help but smile. He'd done his fair share of spoiling her. What if he'd never returned with the Heart Stone the first time? As much as he worried about his sister, she always landed on her feet. Truth be told, of all of them, Maire would be the survivor of the group. Yet, here they were, rescuing her from whatever she'd gotten herself into. Assuming they could find her.
Now that he was back in the eighteen hundreds with time on his hands as they calculated their next move, he considered the change in Ethan. He'd been surly and impatient from the moment he'd knocked on their door in Baywood. His behavior worsened when they hadn't been able to find a trace of Maire. Ethan had taken a large gamble jumping to the future. He understood Ethan's anxiety, but was that all it had been? He didn't want to admit it, but Ethan might not be sharing the entire story.
A day's ride from the monastery, and he felt as helpless as a babe.
AJ.
Where are you, my love?
As dangerous as this world was, he'd always believed the two of them could face it together. Their separation tore at him, and he ached to be on his way, caution be damned. Ethan's gruff behavior these last couple of weeks began to make sense. It was difficult to be separated from someone when you had so much to lose. If they had to hoof it to the monastery, then that was what they'd do. If they found transportation along the way, so much the better. He didn't want to walk in the rain, but the weather would keep most people off the roads, and even the soldiers would reduce their patrols.
The creak of a door brought Finn out of his musings, and he realized he'd fallen asleep, the predawn light now revealing the shabby room with patches of holes in the walls that matched the roof. He slowed his breathing and glanced across the room at Ethan, who remained motionless, either in sleep or performing his own survey of who had opened the door.
A small figure tiptoed in, a large bag at his side. Michel had returned as promised.
Finn heaved himself from his spot, twisting to relieve a knot in his shoulder and neck.
"Good morn, young master, Michel."
The boy blushed. "I'm no master." His eyes flicked to Ethan, who had rolled to his side, grunting as he ran a hand over his face.
Ethan picked at the corners of his eyes and groaned again as he pushed himself up. "A few weeks in your time, and I've become spoiled."
Michel eyed them but said nothing as he laid out small packages of food wrapped in brown cloth.
"I did believe my days of sleeping on the floor to be far behind me." Finn scratched his chin, wondering when he'd be able to shave again. They hadn't packed much for personal hygiene, believing they'd arrive at the earl's estate. Another basic necessity out of reach. He should be grateful he hadn't been gone for years, or his basic survival skills might have eluded him.
"What fine fare did you bring us?" Ethan asked as he stood, stretched his back, and walked to the circle of food Michel laid out for them.
"Mostly fruit from the orchard, but I found some cheese that hasn't yet spoiled, and Mama made extra loaves of bread. I don't think she'll miss one." He opened one of the smallest packages. "This was all the meat I could get." His voice became small, as if the bounty he'd brought was too meager.
Finn patted his back. "This is a fine haul you've brought us."
They ate in silence, nibbling more than anything else. Finn and Ethan knew to hoard what they could. They had a two-day walk, and without knowing what lay ahead of them, they needed to preserve the food.
Michel handed them a waterskin, and they drank heartily after Michel told them a small river followed the road they'd be traveling.
After they ate, Michel used a stick to draw a map of where they were, pointing out the direction they needed to travel, the places to avoid, and which farms might be friendly.
"We'll have to skirt the town. Too many soldiers." Finn drew a line leaving the road just before town and circling south to a point on the far side of town and the road to the monastery. "We can take this road. It adds several miles but would be less risky."
"This would be a lot easier with a couple of horses or at least a cart." Ethan stared at the scratches on the dirt. "Is there any place along the way where we could buy horses?"
Michel shook his head. "Just Saint-Malo."
Finn stretched out his legs, his muscles sore from the hard floor. "If the rain lets up, we'd have a better chance of finding a ride along the road. We just have to avoid patrols."
"Which may not be as easy as it sounds if there isn't sufficient cover along the road," Ethan replied.
Silence descended as all
three heads lowered to study the dirt map for answers.
"Michel. You said your papa took the cart. Does your family own other horses?" Finn studied the young lad, hoping they overlooked the obvious.
He nodded enthusiastically before his shoulders dropped. "It's just an old plow horse."
Finn pulled one of the duffels closer and rummaged through it. AJ had ordered a metal lockbox shortly after Ethan had arrived. It was no larger than a journal and three inches deep. He rolled a few dials to match the combination, and the lid popped open. He shoved objects around with his finger before picking up the smallest nugget he could find.
Ethan understood Finn's action and broke out in a laugh. "Not the most elegant ride, but he should be strong enough to carry the two of us."
Michel looked worried until Finn laid a hand on his shoulder. Then he took the boy's hand and turned it over to drop the nugget in his palm. It was half the size of a pea.
"Do you know what this is?"
The boy's eyes lit up before raising them to Finn. "Gold?"
"Aye. This could buy a couple of horses and probably feed you the rest of the year." Finn glanced at Ethan, who nodded in agreement. "I need you to run and ask your mama if she will trade the use of your horse for a few days in exchange for this. You can retrieve the horse from Sebastian once we arrive at the monastery."
Michel's face screwed up in confusion. "You only want to borrow the horse?"
Finn nodded.
"And you'll give us gold for that?"
Finn folded the young boy's hand into a fist. "This is very important, Michel. We have urgent business with Sebastian and must get there as quickly as we can. We can walk it, but it would be much easier if we had a horse."
Michel jumped up. "I'll go get him now. He's old, but he's strong. I'm sure Mama will agree."
Ethan grabbed the boy's sleeve. "Be careful with that nugget. Make sure you give it to your mother to hold onto."
He nodded vigorously and slipped through the remains of the back door, which hung askew.
"Could it be that simple?" Ethan asked.
Finn's tension along his shoulders and neck had eased with Michel's eagerness, but nothing ever went as planned where the stones were concerned. He shook his head. "At this point, I'd say we should prepare for the worst."
Ethan chuckled. "Maybe we've finally found some luck."
Finn released a sigh and shook his head. "One thing we Irish learn early on, there's no pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and luck only comes to those who work for it."
"No wonder the Irish are always drowning their sorrows in a pint. You're a morose lot."
"You've mistaken drowning our problems with…" Finn stopped when Ethan jumped up and ran to his duffel.
Before Ethan could reach it, a man walked through the back door holding Michel in a bear hug, the young lad's feet kicking at the air and occasionally making contact with his captor's knees, which earned him a sharp shake.
The men turned to the front door when they heard the metallic click of a flintlock. Two soldiers had crowded through the front door.
The smallest of the men smiled. "We are in luck, men. Our ride through the rain has turned up a couple of rats. Or should I say spies?"
Ethan shook his head after a fist connected with his jaw. He spat blood, and when he took a breath, a sharp stab poked at his side. Not the ribs again. He didn't think they were broken, but they were definitely bruised. The soldiers must have been bored because an hour with Finn and him seemed to have resolved their pent-up frustration.
He was surprised the men had been able to catch them unaware. They were a sloppy lot, but their leader was smart. They must have seen the boy bringing them breakfast and wondered why the boy would visit an abandoned building. Three soldiers on patrol after a rainy night, probably seeking their own shelter.
Finn hadn't fared any better. The fool kept baiting the men with his dumb Irish wit. At first, Ethan hadn't understood why Finn would encourage the extra punishment. Then he caught Finn glancing at Michel. He was held by a soldier, the one who liked to heckle during the interrogations. The soldier had held the boy tightly, but as the beating continued, he'd gotten lazy. Michel appeared terrified, but the boy continually scanned the room. If Ethan had to guess, the youth was looking for a way to escape. Smart lad.
When the soldiers had first entered the farmhouse, their guns drawn and Michel in their grasp, Finn and Ethan had quickly capitulated. The soldiers shouted with glee at their discovery of weapons stuffed in the duffels. Unfortunately for Finn and Ethan, it just confirmed the soldier's suspicions they'd caught themselves a couple of spies.
The leader was the shorter of the men. His rank was only that of a corporal, but he had all the swagger of a commissioned officer. The second soldier stood a couple of inches taller than Finn and Ethan and seemed to enjoy the role of punisher. While his punches hit all the right places, he was slow and lumbering. Nothing he or Finn couldn't handle if they got loose. The one holding the boy was all talk, which seemed to rile up the punisher. Even with their prisoners, the men preferred to gripe at each other. A small opening Ethan might be able to fester.
"This would go much easier if you would just tell us who sent you and what you're doing in France." The leader kicked the duffels. "You've come armed, yet you have no horses."
"I told you before. They fell from the sky," Michel yelled, his eyes wide with fear. "They were sent by the devil."
The men laughed. The corporal pointed to the soldier that gripped a struggling Michel. "I told you the boy was simple. That's why he's the one tending the sheep."
"Then why did he bring them food?" the soldier asked, casually moving Michel to the side as the boy's arms swung out.
The corporal pointed a finger to his own head. "Think about what I just said. The boy is simple. If he thinks they fell from the sky, then he probably thinks they have magic powers."
With that, the three soldiers broke out in laughter, and the punisher landed another punch, forcing Finn to double over.
Finn's head rolled to the right, and he squinted through a bloody eye. "Exactly how much more talking are you fat blokes going to do? I'm feeling ignored."
Ethan cursed. What the hell was Finn up to? As the corporal and the punisher moved in, the third man loosened his grip on Michel. In an instant, the lad stomped down on the soldier's foot, which produced a yell. The man raised a hand to slap the boy, but he wasn't fast enough. Michel was out of his grasp and racing for the back door before anyone could catch him.
"Let him go," the corporal screamed.
The third man stopped at the edge of the door and turned back. "I can catch him."
The corporal shook his head. "I told you, he's nothing but a simpleton. Who's he going to tell? We're soldiers of the national army. No one will question us."
He turned back to Finn and nodded at the punisher. The punches began again.
9
A flash of light hit Finn in the face, forcing a groan, the brightness increasing the intense pain in his head. At first, he didn't understand why his head ached, but when he shifted to avoid the light, the events of the day rushed back as thoroughly as the agony radiating throughout his body. The fog, rain, France, the shepherd boy, and the soldiers. The last one explained the pain. The soldier had some weight behind him, but didn't throw his punches half as well as Dugan had. He'd call that a silver lining.
He managed to roll his head to survey his surroundings and caught the first whiff of roasted lamb. Then his stomach registered the smell, and his hunger howled. The enticing aroma was worse torture than the beatings.
The corporal sat next to a crumbling hearth. The smoke from a fire drifted through the holes in the patchy roof. His back was to Finn, but based on his short stature, there was no question about his identity.
The soldier, who'd caught then lost Michel, lounged on the other side of the hearth, mumbling into a metal cup that was probably filled with wine. The sound of splintering wood explaine
d where the bruiser was.
Finn twisted his body to the left and spied Ethan on the other side of the room. He lay on his back, but his head was turned away from the fire, either asleep or feigning it.
His gaze flicked back to the window to determine the time of day. He had assumed morning, but when he considered the placement of the sun and the direction the window faced, he realized it was late afternoon. That made sense. The soldiers had questioned them most of the day, but the beatings decreased as the soldiers began to drink. Finn didn't remember it getting dark. It was possible that his body had just shut down and he'd slept through until morning, but he didn't think so.
The door banged open against the patchwork wall. Finn groaned at the shooting pain from the momentary tensing of muscles.
A quarter leg of lamb slammed down on the table. The bruiser wiped his face, then ran his hands down his stained pants. "That's the last of it. If we want more, we'll have to steal a lambie from that crazy shepherd boy."
The corporal stood and studied the lamb roasting on a spit in the hearth then back at the last raw quarter of meat. "We'll cook the last of it then head back to town."
"We should have started back right away." The complainer scratched his balls, belched, then went back to staring into the fire.
The corporal glanced at Finn, who'd quickly shut his eyes. "But first, we'll need another horse. I have no intention of sharing a saddle with a spy." He turned to the bruiser. "Why don't you ride to the neighboring farms and see if you can commandeer a horse for the national cause."
The soldier grinned, happy to inflict havoc on a poor farmer. A farmer the soldier was supposed to protect. But if the bruiser left, the beatings would stop, at least for a while, and for that, Finn would be grateful. The cooked meat made his stomach grumble, and rather than suffer through that, he shut his eyes and thought of AJ.
When he woke, the room was dark, flames of a fire shining through the patchwork of holes in the farmhouse. The men had built a second fire outside, but the smell of smoke and roasted meat still overwhelmed the old farmhouse. Finn's stomach twisted with nausea instead of hunger. He stretched his arms and legs, testing for both the health of his limbs and internal organs, but also for restraints. His wrists were tied behind his back with rope. His legs were also bound. His ribs ached, and he felt a shortness in his breath, but he didn't think anything was broken. The bruiser hadn't focused his punches, preferring to punch at different spots as if slamming Finn around was just great sport. He'd be sore for a while, but once out of these ropes, he'd be able to hold his own with this lot.
