“I don’t know how you came across it,” the old man said quietly, gravely. “But this ring will never again leave my possession. I know you stole it, you see. I know, because it once belonged to me own daughter, now dead a score and four years.”
He turned and walked into the shadows that draped the corners of the hut.
Alys approached his cot with a noticeable limp, and Piers nearly wanted to weep at the familiar sight of her golden hair and her bright smile. She glanced nervously at the old man as he passed, but neither one spoke to each other.
In a moment, Piers heard a rolling rattle and then he was alone with Alys.
She dropped to her knees at his side, her small hands reaching for his face. “Piers, how are you feeling?”
He looked up at her, his breath caught painfully in his chest. He didn’t know what was happening, or what the old man meant.
Seek your blood on your journey to the king, my son. There you will find the answer which will save Gillwick and yourself.
“What is it, Piers? Did Ira say something to upset you?”
Ira. The old man’s name was Ira.
“My ring,” he managed to whisper.
“Your ring?” Alys’s face scrunched into a confused frown. “Do you want me to fetch it for you? Where is it?”
Piers tried to shake his head and his eyes went to the stool where the old man had been sitting.
… it once belonged to my daughter, now dead a score and four years.
A score and four years ago, Piers had been six years old.
Chapter 16
“Piers?”
He was staring at an old, three-legged stool on the far side of his makeshift bed. For several moments, he said nothing. Then at last he turned his head toward her.
“Nothing,” he whispered. His eyes roved her face, her shoulders. “Layla?”
“She’s taken a fancy to a particular village girl,” Alys said with a wry smile. “I must admit I’m rather jealous, even though the child is a delight. How are you feeling?”
“Poorly,” he admitted, his voice faint and his eyes far away now, as he turned his gaze to the ceiling above.
Alys nodded. “I’ve met Linny—the woman caring for you. She told me that you have a fever in your hand where Layla bit you, and that it’s spread to your blood.”
Piers blinked, but said nothing. Part of Alys wanted to explain to him how serious his condition was, how frightened for him she was, but she recognized that her desire to share the burden of his illness was entirely selfish, and so restrained herself, and only gave him the optimistic part of Linny’s opinion.
“She’s drained the wounds, dressed them with a salvethat will draw the poison out. You’ll rest here, try to eat and drink and sleep as much as possible, and you shall be well soon.”We hope,she added to herself.
“How long?” Piers whispered, the question meant for her, but his words were directed toward the ceiling.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. His face looked so gaunt in the darkness of the tree house, Alys felt a shiver flutter over her. “I don’t think anyone could know yet.”
“I must get to London.” His eyes closed.
“You will. We will,” she emphasized.
“Not without my ring,” Piers said. “The old man has it.”
Fury sprang to life in Alys. “Ira stole your father’s ring?”
Piers nodded, his chin barely twitching downward.
