Beyond a Doubt - By Felicia Rogers Page 0,20
her.
“The gatekeeper said a band of English players just came through. They are on their way to London. Ye should be able to ride with them.”
“He said all that?”
“He did.” Bryce frowned.
To hide the fact that she hadn’t been listening, and perhaps dispel some of his worry, she said, “If you think it is best.”
Bryce nodded.
A mass of wagons and horses sat outside a pub. Lucy and Bryce dismounted and entered the dimly lit room. Staggering men bumped and knocked Lucy on all sides, and she moved closer to Bryce for protection.
A boisterous group sat in the back and a waitress hurried to their table, answering their repeated calls for more ale. Skepticism flitted across Bryce’s face but yet he kept moving forward.
Reaching the rowdy group, Bryce said, “I’m lookin’ for the leader of yer troupe.”
The hand of one man rose above the crowd. In a slurred voice he answered, “That would be me.”
Bryce hesitated but a moment before continuing, “I understand yer troupe of players is travlin’ to London.”
“Aye, we are.”
“Would ye have room for a passenger?”
The man stroked a filthy pointed beard and answered, “Highly irregular, but I don’t see why not. But I have to ask, what do I get in return?”
Lucy and Bryce hadn’t discussed what to do in this situation. She should have realized nothing came for free in this world. Stepping forward, she said, “Once in London, you will be rewarded monetarily, I assure you.”
“How much?” asked the man. He grinned, showing a mouth full of rotted teeth.
The figure mentioned caused eyebrows to rise and tongues to wag. One of the actors pulled out a chair and offered it to Lucy but she declined to sit, preferring to stand beside Bryce for as long as she was allowed.
“We are staying here at the inn and departing after an early performance. Will you be traveling along with the young lady?”
“Nay,” said Bryce.
“More’s the pity. I have a part which would have been perfect for you. All brawn, you might say.” The leader took a sip of his drink, staring over the rim of his cup with a fake grin plastered upon his face.
Lucy stepped forward, angered by the implication that Bryce was big and dim-witted. But Bryce stopped her, placing a hand in her way.
“She will meet ye out front in the morning.”
The troupe leader dismissed them with a wave of his hand, going back to his compatriots. Bryce led her away, back to the waiting horses. They rode out of Carlisle Castle to a hill that overlooked the walls and surrounding land.
They dismounted, started a fire, and prepared food with no words spoken between them.
On occasion, Lucy would glance up to find Bryce staring in her direction. With a shift of his eyes he would look away, a flush covering his cheeks.
Amidst the covert glances, they exchanged brief touches. While reaching for a bowl their hands grazed. As they stood up and stretched, their arms touched.
After they arranged their blankets for the night, Bryce pulled her close to him. His arms snaked around her waist; his nose buried in her hair. She felt wetness upon her neck and her own eyes filled.
How could they be parting? How had her feelings grown for Bryce in such a short time? What did it all mean? What would happen if she stayed with Bryce and never made it to London?
Her tears fell heavily. Bryce rubbed her back in a soothing motion as the sobs took control. There was no hope for them; she had to press on.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brilliant reds and golds covered the morning sky. Large puffy clouds drifted with the light blowing breeze.
From a distance Bryce watched the departing players. Lucy was amongst them. With red-rimmed eyes and a tear-stained face, Lucy had pecked him upon the lips in a nonverbal goodbye. It had almost been his undoing.
He rubbed the spot. A remaining tingle was the only reminder of their contact.
Bryce nodded as Lucy turned upon her mount and gave him a final wave.
Horse and man waited outside the gate until the group was completely out of sight. When the dust from the horses’ hooves disappeared, Bryce headed out in the opposite direction. Time to go home and begin his life.
Not wishing to increase the distance between himself and Lucy, Bryce allowed Emissary to walk. His horse placed one hoof at a time to the ground, seemingly in slow motion. A weird pressure set up in his chest.
What had he done? Would Lucy be safe? Had