by Sarah Hegger
Beatrice stilled and raised her hand. She cocked her head as if listening to something outside.
“What is it?” Faye’s heart drummed in her ears.
Shouts rang from the bailey. The men were back.
She left Beatrice in the stable, not able to bear her sister’s slower pace.
William led a group of searchers through the gate.
And there, sweet merciful God, was a little form pressed against his shoulder.
They were found. Tears blurred her vision as she ran. She reached for her child, to hold his solid weight in her arms.
Arthur’s face peered at her, streaked with dirt and tears, brown eyes huge and dark against the pallor of his skin.
Faye near wrenched him from William’s arms. She wrapped his warm, little body beside her heart and buried her nose into his neck. She drew in deep, soothing breaths of his treacle, little-boy smell. Her tears wet both their faces. Safe. Thank you, God. He was here and he was safe.
William stood before the men, his face grave.
Nay, his face was all wrong. He should not cast his gaze to the ground like he bore grim tidings.
None of the men in the party would meet her eye. They shifted and murmured to themselves, their faces half-obscured by the dark.
“Simon.” The name dragged up her throat like a rusty blade. “Where is Simon?”
William shook his head.
The edges of her vision darkened. Any moment now, William would grin, tug her braid and say he jested. She stared hard at William’s face. He needed to smile, now, and tell her Simon was with him.
Arthur squirmed in her arms.
She squeezed until he whimpered, but her arms wouldn’t release him. Spots danced in her vision. Nay. Simon was with them, must be with them.
William held out his arms to her, but she stepped back.
“Where is Simon?” Speech proved difficult past the pounding in her chest, robbing her of breath.
“They took him, Mam.” Arthur’s high, baby voice reached her down a growing tunnel of black. “The men came and took him. They hurt Oliver, and he fell down and I couldn’t wake him.”
Her knees hit the ground. She must have fallen or stumbled. She gripped the sides of Arthur’s face. “Who? What men?”
Arthur’s face crumpled and his breath hiccoughed.
“Faye?” William touched her arms. His hands pressed on her, weighty, ponderous, and she shook them off.
Arthur wriggled in her hold and tried to back away from her.
“Who, Arthur? Who took Simon?”
William crouched beside her. “You are frightening him, Faye.”
Dear God, she was scaring her baby. She stared at her hands in horror. She had never lifted a hand against either child. Red marks on Arthur’s sweet baby-soft cheeks shrieked condemnation at her.
Arthur’s mouth twisted as he wailed, big eyes screaming her betrayal at her.
“I am sorry.” She choked. The bailey dipped and swayed around her. She had to stop. Think. Sweet Jesus, they had Simon. “Mama is sorry, baby.”
William gathered Arthur and handed him to Roger.
Her arms ached with the loss of her child. Another woman’s child was also in peril. “Oliver?”
“Oliver will recover. He took a nasty blow to the head trying to defend the boys.” William gripped her by the shoulders.
“Defend the boys? What happened? Merciful God, William, what happened?” She curled her fingers into his tunic, forcing him to look at her.
“Faye, Calder has Simon.” Grim, his mouth harsh as a death mask.
Bile rose in her throat. It was not possible. She shook her head to clear the buzzing in her ears.
William was still speaking and she had to hear what he said. “We will need Oliver to tell us what happened, but it appears they lured the boys into the thicket and took Simon. This was pinned to Arthur’s tunic.”
Parchment crackled in William’s hand.
“Calder cannot write.” It couldn’t be from Calder. She grasped at the sliver of hope.
William shook his head. “He must have had a scribe write it. It bears his seal.”
Faye snatched at the parchment. Tidy, sloping letters danced around the page, defying her attempt to make sense of it. She thrust the parchment at William. “What does it say?”
William stared at her. “It says, ‘An heir belongs with his father.’”
Meet the Author
Born British and raised in South Africa, Sarah Hegger currently lives in Colorado with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books. Visit her website at www.sarahhegger.com, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.