The old man whistled a high note. “London, eh? What business would the likes of a poor farmer such as yourself have that would call him to London?” When Piersonly glared at him, the old man pushed. “I can see that you’re not the sort of man who takes easily to being questioned, but I have me own interests to protect. You ken?”
“I don’t make bargains, old man. Tell me where she is.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed and he looked sideways at Piers. “Even under threat of your own life?”
Piers stared at him. “Don’t bluff. Kill me or tell me where she is. I’m tired of talking to you, either way.”
The old man looked at Piers a long while, a faint smile on his thin lips. “I know not where her highness is at this moment. I threw her out on her titled arse last night, her filthy animal with her. No need to thank me.”
Piers tried to sit up, his hand throbbing in time to his pounding heart. Alys alone in the wood? He would kill the old man himself if he could just get up.
“Don’t get yourself in a lather,” the old man admonished gruffly, and half rose to push Piers gently but firmly back onto his makeshift bed with one wrinkled and stingy palm. “A kindhearted woman of the village took pity on her, and I’m certain her ladyship is but a stone’s throw from us. If she cares aught for your welfare, ‘tis likely her voice will abuse both our ears before long.”
Piers lay back, but only because he was truly too weak to continue the ruse of a struggle. He realized how very vulnerable he was.
“Of course she cares for my welfare. She was the one who found you, wasn’t she?”
“Whywouldshe care so for you, that was my question, lad! Is she your lover?”
Piers turned his face away. “No.”
“Are you her escort? Hired to gain her the city?”
“No. I go to London for my own purposes.”
“And those would be?”
“Fuck you,friend,” Piers sneered.
“So that’s how it is to be, eh?” the old man said mildly. “Well. I have my own idea as to why you’re going to London, and my wager would be that it has aught to do with this pretty little bauble in my hand. Would you agree?”
Piers turned his head back toward the old man and saw his father’s signet ring pinched between leathery finger and thumb.
“I’ll kill you,” Piers breathed.
“You’re in no condition to be making such threats. But, what you will do is tell me how this ring came to be in your possession, and what you plan to do with it once you’re to London.”
Piers struggled to rise once more.
“Now, if you keep on with that nonsense, I’ll just rap you on your skull and you can go back to sleep until you’re feeling more cooperative.”
“Give me back my ring,” Piers demanded, his words coming out like hacking barks before he deteriorated into a fit of coughing on the woolen ticking.
The old man waited patiently until Piers caught his breath. “You stole it, thinking you could sell it?” The old man chuckled. “Any fool would know that this ring belongs on the hand of a noble. A commoner come to the city with it would be jailed before you could name a price.”
“I didn’t steal it. It’s mine.”
The old man shook his head and tsked. “No need to lie to me, friend.”
“Give it back! It’s all I have.”
“Piers?” Alys’s voice seemed to call from below him, if that was possible, since he was nearly certain he was lying on the ground.
“Alys,” he tried to shout back, but his voice had wearied to a faint whisper.
“Now see there? It’s not all you have,” the old man said, all trace of smile gone from his face as he stood with a slight groan. He stepped to the bottom of Piers’s cot and looked down at him, Piers’s signet ring disappeared into his tight fist. Small, hollow footsteps sounded from the other side of the hut.
“I’ll not leave here without that ring. It belongs to me,” Piers whispered.
