as the road bent downhill, but Garth still kept at the reins. “What was that thing we saw?”
“You tell me.”
Garth didn’t answer as they careened down the hillside, slowing only enough to take the switchback corners. Merlin saw the ruddy blur of Garth’s head turning, presumably to steal a glance behind them.
“Are they chasing us?” Merlin asked.
Garth scanned the hillside again. “Y-yes … no!”
The hollow thump of the Fowaven bridge sounded under the wheels as the wagon burst across. After they climbed up the hill beyond the bridge, Garth cracked the reins faster and faster. Mud flicked onto Merlin’s face.
“Slow down, I said! This isn’t our wagon, remember?”
“I know, I know … but that man wanted us to take it.”
“You told me it was Natalenya. Have you been telling the truth?”
“Yer always thinkin’ about her, aren’t you?”
Merlin’s face felt hot. “You better not have stolen this wagon, you hear? My father and I caught a thief yesterday and sent him to Tregeagle.”
Garth hesitated before answering. “Sure … sure. I promise!”
The wagon raced by the large stone cross on the right side of the road that marked the entrance of the abbey grounds.
“Slow down!” Merlin shouted, for the horses had been worked into a lather of frenzied speed. He reached out, found Garth’s jerking arms, and pulled on the reins. “Stop! Slow down!”
Confused, the horses careened to the right, off the road.
The wagon slammed over a bump, and Merlin bit his tongue.
The two jolted side to side as the beasts raced downhill. Merlin heard the sound of hammering in the distance.
Garth yanked the reins free from Merlin. “We’re gonna hit the new buildin’ —”
The wagon tilted on the hillside, and Merlin rammed into Garth.
“Look out!” Garth screamed.
“What?”
The shadow of a building loomed up on his right. People shouted and dove away from the thundering horses. Garth turned them aside just in time to avoid hitting the structure.
But not entirely. The back right wheel of the wagon caught a post. The wagon slammed to a stop, and the horses fell in a tangled heap.
A huge crack came from the roof, and Merlin turned his head just in time to see a support breaking away.
The whole structure trembled, then tipped and fell. It smashed into the back corner of the wagon and flipped it on its side, sending Merlin, Garth, and the livestock to the ground in a heap of limbs, hooves, and feathers. Charcoal flew everywhere, with most of it heaped in a big, dusty mound. As the soot settled, the workers and monks gathered to investigate. Abbot Prontwon found the pair and pulled them safely from the wreckage.
Merlin stood blinking at the scene around him. He could hear Garth peeling the shell off a roasted egg.
CHAPTER 3
THE TRIAL
Merlin’s hand paused on the latch of the magister’s front door. “Open it,” his father, Owain, said. “You’ve got to face up to what’s happened.”
Merlin swallowed and pushed the door open, feeling upon it the bronze Roman eagle. Was it this very morning he’d had such high hopes of talking to Natalenya? And now here he was, about to stand trial before her father, Tregeagle, because Garth had stolen the wagon and lied about it.
How could the boy have been so thoughtless?
Merlin’s father led him into the great hall. Pine logs blazed on the open hearth, scenting the air. Despite the warmth of the room, Merlin shivered, and it wasn’t from the lingering chill of their evening walk. Judgment waited for him in the next room.
Merlin felt such shame for trusting Garth’s lies … hah! As if Natalenya would have given permission to take the wagon. As if she’d ever want to talk to him … the only young man in the village with a face full of scars.
Merlin felt his father’s thick hand pat him on the back. “You’ll get to tell your story first, since Abbot Prontwon hasn’t brought that troublemaker yet.”
“Garth is my friend. Right now he’s my only friend.” Merlin’s back tensed, and even without clear sight, he could imagine the anger furrowing his father’s brow.
“Not anymore,” Owain said.
A servant acknowledged their presence and went to alert Tregeagle.
Merlin followed his father over to the fire. If his chances of talking with Natalenya had been remote this morning, tonight they seemed hopeless.
His heart like lead, he listened to the sound of the servant girl as she marched down one of the hallways, then knocked on a door. Tregeagle’s gruff voice answered, and moments later, the servant returned to them, her footfalls