The Wretched of Muirwood

“Someone is hurt and we must hide him. Sowe – look. There is a knight on the floor. Well, not exactly a knight, but the other one was a knight-maston. He is hurt. Look.”

“I am so tired, Lia. Just tell me in the morning.”

“No! There is no waiting for the morning. We must hide him. The sheriff of Mendenhall is looking for him. The rain is mad right now, so there is no place outside to hide him. Help me lift him up here. Pasqua cannot make it up the ladder, so it would be perfect hiding him up here.”

Sowe strained her neck a little, shifting her dark hair. Sowe’s hair was straight and dark while Lia’s was curly and gold. They were opposites in many other ways as well. Her eyes were still closed and her expression was pouty. “There is not a knight sleeping on the floor.”

“There is. Look if you do not believe me.”

“This is just another one of your silly games. Lia – I am so tired. Why do you have to do this? Tomorrow is going to be awful enough already. There is so much work.”

“You do not believe me. Look, Sowe. Just look.”

Sowe sighed and shunted her way to the ladder edge on her elbows. “I like you sleeping on the floor these last few nights. Even though it is colder without…you…oh my goodness! Who is that?”

“I already told you. Help me get him up the ladder.”

“Up the ladder? Him? Up in the loft with us? No, I do not think that is a good idea at all. Where did he come from? Who is he?” Her eyes were wide open now.

“I do not think I even know. But he is a squire. The knight-maston that brought him here said he struck his head against a tree branch. He had a cut in his eyebrow, but I closed it up with some woad. See? My fingers are blue. I tried lifting him, but I cannot bear his weight alone.”

“Then we should tell Pasqua.”

Lia shook her head no. “She will only summon the Aldermaston straightaway. The knight said his life was in danger if he was caught. He promised to return for him in three days with a reward. By morning, he will probably waken. We can learn more of him then. Do you want his life on your conscience?” She was more worried about losing a possible reward than she was about the squire’s danger.

Sowe wrung her hands, looking down at the body and then at Lia. “But we sleep up here, Lia. We cannot…you know…we cannot let him sleep up here too.”

There was stirring below and a cough.

“He is awake!” Sowe said with a squeak.

Lia rushed to the ladder and hurried down as the squire struggled to his feet. He swayed, back-stepped, and collided with a trestle table. Gingerly, he touched his wound and the bandage covering it.

“You have been hurt,” Lia said, coming into the lamplight. “By a tree branch.”

His reaction to her voice made her stop. He stiffened with panic, then glared at her with undisguised loathing as if he could not believe his misfortune. He slammed his hand on the table to steady himself.

Lia bit her lip. “You are safe, sir.”

The squire trembled as if his knees would fail him. As he surveyed the kitchen, the lamplight played over the grooves and angle of his face. The dried blood had been bathed away, but his hair was matted and unkempt.

“Where am I? Is this the abbey?”

“Muirwood, sir.”

The squire nodded, then another look clouded his face, and he doubled over fiercely. Lia went to help him, but he was merely being sick. All over himself and all over her. His knees did collapse then and he fell to the floor, vomiting violently again. It was a noisy affair and the smell of it made Lia turn her face away, nearly gagging herself.

Sowe descended the ladder, her expression a mixture of fear and wincing.

“Get him something to drink,” Lia said, crouching down next to him. Sweat ran down his face and his body convulsed and trembled. She dabbed some spittle and flecks from his chin with a rag. “You have chills.”

“Muirwood,” he whispered, clenching his eyes shut and rocking back and forth. His face was white. He wiped his mouth on his arm sleeve and glared at her for the second time, a look that seared with distrust. “Who have you told?”

“What?”

“Who have you told I am here? You both are wretcheds, are you not? Who have you told?”

Lia felt a flush of anger rise to her cheeks. Your friend was warmer, she thought. “I am a wretched. It is not as if I can help that. I saved your life tonight, sir. Why would I risk it again by telling the Aldermaston you are here? Your friend said he would come for you in three days. So we will hide you until then.”