turned his half-blind gaze to the bobbing boy with red hair. “You told me, ‘Not another thing to deliver,’ and now look what we’ve got.”
Garth’s lips let go of the mouthpiece, and his bagpipe squeaked out a long last note. “How could I say no?”
Merlin tripped on a large stone, nearly rolling the tub out of the wheelbarrow. “You’re supposed to warn me when a rock is coming, remember?”
“I forget those eyes o’ yours can’t see much. You’ve been gettin’ along so well.”
“Not since you added two extra things, and they don’t just lie in the wheelbarrow. No, they cluck, bleat, and leap out every twenty steps.”
“But they’re for the abbey. We’ll drop ‘em off on the way and —”
“They’re for your Sabbath supper.”
“Hadn’t thought o’ that.” Garth kicked a rock away from the path, and it skittered down the hill.
“When they were offered, you said, ‘A nice dinner for the brothers at the abbey’ and ‘Thank you very much.’ Hah!”
“All right, so I thought it.” Garth halted. “Ho, there, wait a bit. I saw somethin’ move.”
Merlin stopped pushing the wheelbarrow. “What now?”
Garth knelt down and advanced into the bushes on all fours.
Merlin could see only a smudge of Garth sticking out from beneath the green leaves, and then a colorful blotch flew out above the boy’s head.
“I found me a tuck snack!” Garth bounced up and placed a warm egg in Merlin’s palm.
Merlin judged the egg’s size to be about half of a chicken’s.
“Three of ‘em!” Garth said. “Oh, but how can I carry ‘em? The goat’ll eat ‘em in the barrow, and I can’t hold ‘em and play me bagpipe too.”
Merlin reached out, felt for Garth’s hood, and dropped his egg to the bottom. “How’s that?”
“Perfect. Yer clever at times, you are.”
Merlin held out his hand for the other two eggs and set them beside the first.
Fuffing up his bagpipe with air, Garth resumed playing as he marched down the hill.
Merlin followed, and as the hill leveled out, he was better able to keep the barrow steady. But that was when his heart started wobbling, because he knew by the big blur of a rock coming up that they were about to walk by —
“Look at that house,” Garth said, stopping to take a breath. “A big house … behind those trees. Didn’t notice it on the way up.”
In vain, Merlin shook the black hair away from his eyes. He wished he could see if Natalenya was home. “You’ve only been here a month … but you’ve heard of the magister, haven’t you?”
“Sure. The brothers at the abbey pay taxes to the ol’ miser.”
“He’s not old, and his name’s Tregeagle. “He and his wife have two sons and a daughter.”
“Those the boys that called you ‘Cut-face’?”
“Yeah.” Merlin scowled at the memory. The hurled insults had been followed by a goodly sized rock, which had only narrowly missed his head.
But Natalenya was different. She never mentioned Merlin’s scars. During worship at the chapel, she was always polite and asked him questions now and then, almost like a friend. So when Merlin’s father had asked him and Garth to get charcoal with the wheelbarrow, Merlin suggested that Garth get a tour of the fortress too. The fact that they’d pass Natalenya’s house twice was a small coincidence, of course, even if it was out of their way.
The problem was that an empty wheelbarrow was just too inviting, and practically everyone had given them things to deliver. And now they had the goat and chicken as well. Out of embarrassment, Merlin almost wished Natalenya wouldn’t be home.
“What does the house look like?” he asked. “Tell me what I’m seeing.”
“Ornate kind of … Bigger than the mill, I’d say, an’ made o’ fancy stone. The roof’s got lapped bark with a real stone chimney, not jus’ a hole for smoke.” Garth paused. “Why does the magister’s door have a bronze bird on it?”
“It’s the ensign of a Roman legion. An eagle, or an aquila, to be precise. His family’s descended from soldiers on the coast.”
“Huh. Why’d the Romans come here? Nothin’ here but hills, woods, an’ a bit o’ water.”
“For the tin and copper. A little silver,” Merlin said. “None of the brothers explained that?”
“Haven’t had time for history, what with fishin’, seein’ you, workin’, and eatin’ o’ course.”
“Do you see anyone at the Magister’s house? Maybe a daughter?”
“Nah … no girl. Nothin’ but a little smoke.”
The sound of horses’ hooves clattered toward them from farther down the hill. Merlin had just