Kit nodded grudgingly. “I’d rather clean his weapons.”
“He had only a dagger.”
“Can Luke help with the horse?”
Mercy grinned. “Of course.”
“And Joshua?”
Joshua was Kit’s imaginary friend. If anyone knew of his friend, they might call it witchcraft. Or worse. She allowed him the fantasy because Joshua had materialized shortly after her husband, his father, had died. “Perhaps you should keep Joshua away from the horse. He might spook it.”
Kit nodded in agreement. “Joshua won’t like that.”
Mercy grasped her son’s small hands, drawing his gaze. “Remember to keep Joshua a secret.”
Kit nodded, and a strand of blonde hair fell before his intelligent eyes. “I remember.”
She kissed his head and moved to the door, pausing. She looked back at her son. He was the world to her. And the future looked so dark for them. She loved him so. “Don’t forget about the horse. And remember to be careful. The horse doesn’t know you.” Kit nodded. “And stay out of the barn.”
Mercy picked up the bag from the table. “I’ll be home soon.”
When Mercy returned from checking on the villagers, it was just after noon. She had been anxious leaving Walter’s wife, Alice, with the knight. She had been more anxious leaving her son with instructions not to enter the barn. It was too tempting for a young boy.
When she rode up, Alice, a thin, elderly woman with gray hair tied back into a braid, was pacing before the barn, wringing her wrinkled hands.
Mercy dismounted, fear tightening her stomach. “What is it? Is Kit hurt?”
Alice shook her head, a lock of grey hair falling free from the braid. “A fever. The knight’s burning up.”
Mercy shoved the reins of her horse into Alice’s hands and hurried inside the barn, rushing to the back stall where the knight had been resting. Sunlight shone through a slot of wood on the wall, casting the knight in a subdued light. She dropped to her knees at his side and pressed her hand to his forehead and then his grizzled cheeks. He was overly warm.
“Alice!” she called.
Alice hurried in.
“Get more blankets. Use the ones from my room. Bring a bucket of water and some cloth.”
Alice nodded and hurried out of the barn.
Mercy quickly checked his wounds, making sure there was clean cloth covering them for protection. When he began to toss his head and groan, Mercy placed her hand against his cheek, whispering, “It will be alright. Quiet, now.”
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, pinning her to the spot. His hand caught hers, holding it tightly to his cheek. “Hellfire!” he whispered.
Startled, Mercy could only gaze in horror at his utterance.
“Hellfire,” he said softly, and seemed to settle back.
Scowling, Mercy eased her hand from his hold and adjusted the blanket over his chest.
He shoved the cloth from his chest and began to toss his head again.
Hellfire? Was he seeing something she couldn’t? The uttered word sent chills down her spine. Was he closer to death than she realized? No. She would not let him go without a fight. He was their only hope.Heronly hope.
Alice entered holding a blanket, and a basin on top of it. Mercy stood and took the basin from her to settle it beside him. She dipped some cloth into the water and wrung it out before placing it across his forehead.
“Maybe we should let him die,” Alice stated.
“Alice!”
