The determination on Jason’s face mirrored her husband’s. She had tried to convince William that Jason was too young, but he scoffed, saying he was having a wee sword fashioned for baby Peter, who couldn’t even walk. Wymund agreed, saying the boys must learn to fight as soon as they could hold a sword.
Late that afternoon, Lucy glanced around at the kitchen servants bustling about preparing the evening meal. What she wouldn’t give for just one day with modern appliances. Her stainless steel refrigerator with ice in the door, the stove where she could adjust the temperature with the twist of a knob. The microwave that had never failed to heat her food in under a minute.
Here, the kitchen staff labored all day roasting and boiling foods over the hot fire. Meat pies took hours to prepare. In this era, everything required more time and effort, even the simplest tasks. As much as the slower pace of life here was a welcome change from her hectic modern life, there were certainly conveniences she missed.
Her thoughts turned to the celebrations and festivals that would be starting up back in her own time in a few weeks. Halloween, with its spider webs and spooky lights, costume shops filled with excited children, and grocery store aisles piled high with bags of candy.
She even missed how she and her sisters bickered over what movie to watch or where to go for dinner. They had always been together, through thick and thin. Now here she was, centuries away from them, separated by the vast chasm of time itself.
At least she had her loving husband and beautiful children to keep her company, a fact that comforted her as she grabbed Jason before he could grab a loaf of bread off the wooden table, swinging him up in her arms, kissing the top of his head as helaughed and babbled on about fighting in the lists with his father.
Late that night, Lucy woke to moonlight streaming through the window. The fire cast a low glow over the chamber, and her nose was cold.
Careful not to wake William, she slipped from bed and pulled a cloak around her. Walking the battlements always helped to soothe her during this time of year. Once Halloween passed, she would be her normal cheerful self again.
She stood, gazing up at the endless starlit sky, her face touched by the gentle caress of the night breeze as she tasted salt on her lips, sending a silent wish across time, hoping her sisters and aunts were doing well back in the future.
Lucy looked down at her cloak of warm wool, trimmed in fur. Back home, her wardrobe had consisted mostly of jeans, t-shirts and sneakers. She hadn’t needed to wear six layers to go outdoors. The cloak was soft under her fingers as she ran her hands down the wool and touched the fur trim, but it was no match for the soft cotton t-shirts and leggings she’d grown accustomed to in her own time.
As she turned to go back inside, an ominous sense of foreboding gripped her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was as if something was coming that she couldn’t see or prepare for. Something that meant her harm.
CHAPTER 5
Grateful there wereplenty of apples stored in the larder, Lucy finished her cup of cider, humming softly to herself as she held Peter. What was it about the smell of a baby? She inhaled again, marveling that she and William had created a tiny human.
When he woke, hungry, she reluctantly passed him off to the wet nurse to feed him. It still bothered her, but she found if she made herself go do something instead of sitting and watching another woman feed her child, somehow Lucy was able to manage without falling apart.
William was delighted to have two sons, though he and Lucy were hoping for a girl next. Having two sisters growing up, she wanted a big family, at least that way when one sibling was mad at another there was still someone to talk to.
On her way outside to get a bit of fresh air, she made sure to stop and say hello to the guards and servants she passed, and when only one villager crossed themselves, she hoped that maybe the old rumors would finally die down.
As she reached the stables, an apple core in her pocket for Buttercup, a plaintive voice called out.
“My lady, might I have a word?”
She turned to see one of the stable hands approaching, face etched in a pained grimace. He had been at the castle for years, long before she’d arrived. An older man named Gerald, with a gentle touch that made even the touchiest horses calm under his care.
“How’s Buttercup today?” Lucy greeted him.
Gerald’s eyes crinkled as he looked at the stables.
“She’s fine, lady.”
He sucked air through his teeth, face going pale.
“What’s wrong?”
The stableman winced, gingerly holding a hand to his jaw.
“Begging your pardon. It’s this awful toothache, been plaguing me something fierce the past few days. And now my head’s pounding too.”
The castle healer had passed away last year and as they had not found another to replace him, Lucy and a teenage girl who’d started apprenticing with him a few months before he passed had taken over the role.
“Catherine is tending to one of the washerwomen who fell and sprained her ankle, but I can give you something for the pain.”
Then she made a show of tapping a finger to her lip. “Or we could call for Osbert to pull the tooth out and be done.”
Horrified, Gerald clapped a hand over his mouth. “Nay, lady. I am keeping my teeth no matter how they pain me.”
