His demeanor changed instantly. His shoulders slumped, his face became hard, and his teeth clenched. He grumbled, “You know him?”
She shook her head. “Do you?”
“Pah. No. He makes trouble. That’s all I know. Always trying to steal my apples. He’s a homeless curmudgeon.”
Mercy considered his words.Homeless. “Do you know where he rests for the night?”
“If I did I would find him and have his hand cut off for the apples he steals.”
Mercy sighed, rubbing the coin between her fingers thoughtfully.
His eyes focused on the coin in her hand, greedily. “If I had to guess, I would say he lives somewhere on the north side of town. Probably gets food from the church. And my apples.”
Content with the answer, Mercy tossed the coin to him. “Next time he comes by, give him an apple. Free of charge.”
He caught the coin. “Yes. Of course. Of course.”
Mercy steered her horse across the road, back to Richard’s side, her gaze fixed on the road to the north.
Richard shook his head in displeasure. “I said to do everything I tell you.”
She looked at him. “You didn’t tell me to do anything.”
His gaze bore into hers in warning.
She ignored the warning and jerked on the reins of her horse. “This way.” She led the way north, following the road toward the roof with a cross on it. The sun was beginning to set, and the merchants were closing up their wagons and doors.
Richard moved his horse before hers, cutting off her progression. “We must find a place to rest.”
She looked around his broad shoulders at the cross. “What better place than the church?”
A church.
Richard did not like her idea of hiding right beneath the bishop’s nose. It was risky and dangerous. A church of all places! But he admitted to himself that they needed to rest and they could do that at the church. Perhaps the priest would have information about the boys. It was a place to start. A good place, he had to grudgingly admit.
Mercy led the way into the church. Wooden pews stretched to the front of the aisle where a table and podium stood. Behind which was a beautiful arched window that took up most of the far wall.
Tingles danced across Richard’s neck. He stopped walking. He shouldn’t be here.
Mercy continued on toward the front. She stopped at the first pew and genuflected.
Richard glanced around at the wooden beams far above his head and at the colorful pictures of saints on the tapestries against the side wall. It was not as big or as elaborate as Canterbury Cathedral, but it was still a holy place of worship. He didn’t feel comfortable.
“Can I help you?”
Richard and Mercy turned to find a man dressed in a brown robe approaching down the aisle.
“We were hoping that you could supply a couple of travelers a warm meal,” Richard said.
The priest’s brown hair was peppered with strands of grey. “Of course,” he agreed, clasping his hand together before him. “I have ale and…” His brow furrowed as his eyes alighted on Mercy. “Mercy?”
Mercy’s mouth dropped open. “Father Stephen.”
Richard tensed. Already someone recognized her! His knees bent slightly in preparation to seize Mercy and flee.
Mercy rushed by Richard and embraced the priest.
Surprised, Richard stared at the warm reunion. The tension slowly left his body and confusion washed over him. Should he run? Would this turn out bad for him?
