It was quite late, by the time Ethan arrived back at the Howinger farm and got Whistler settled into his stall. Mr. Howinger would not be far behind, and Ethan had to hurry to get back to the house. He looked toward the house and saw the lantern still lit in the living room window. What would Elspeth say?
When Ethan walked just outside of the barn, he heard a person clear their throat behind him. He turned and found his older sister standing there against the outside of the barn with her arms folded.
“Something to do in the barn, Ethan?” Elspeth’s fingertips rolled along her upper arms as she tried to control her temper.
Ethan winced when he saw her. “But Elspeth, I have important news,” he said quickly.
“Really? And what news could be so important that you had to deceive me and take off into town, when you know Horace will skin both of us alive if he finds out?”
“The council has commissioned Horace to negotiate with Lord Mordred,” he said.
Elspeth’s expression changed instantly. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Howinger was arguing with a knight captain sent from King Stephen,” Ethan said. “He came to raise support for the militia here in Grandee, but Howinger opposed the motion and called for a delegation to be sent, to find out if Grandee’s continued loyalty to Mordred might merit us some relief on our tax burden. The motion carried, but then the council turned around and voted to send Mr. Howinger as the town’s emissary. He has to leave tomorrow!”
Elspeth smiled. “That means he will be gone for nearly six weeks, right?”
“No less,” Ethan assured her. Elspeth smiled wider.
Ethan thought about what had happened at the meeting. Elspeth noticed his changed countenance. “What’s wrong, Ethan? I’m not really mad at you-not after such wonderful news.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “I saw something else at the meeting.”
The look on his face concerned her. “What happened?”
Ethan hesitated to tell her. After all, she had not believed him back in Salem the night of the massacre. “I saw a demon again.”
Elspeth’s expression grew intense rather than dismissive this time. Ethan noticed terror in her eyes-terror he had not seen since their departure from Salem.
“Again?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In the council chambers during the meeting,” Ethan said.
“And what was it doing there?” she asked.
“I believe it was speaking to the men, although they were unaware of it. It moved from one to the other, whispering thoughts into their minds. That’s when everything turned from the militia being confirmed to this delegation and Howinger’s place in it.”
Elspeth tried to consider the ramifications of what Ethan said. Her brow furrowed with concentration. “Did it see you watching?”
“No. I had been hiding in the attic of the council building, so that may have had something to do with it.”
“Where is Mr. Howinger?” she asked.
“He’s on his way home, I expect,” Ethan said.
“Then we should get you into bed before he arrives. Say nothing of these things to anyone else, understand?”
“Of course.”
Elspeth ushered Ethan into the house and made sure he was in bed before she settled in with more mending. Ethan lay there in his bed, trying to listen for the sound of hooves walking on the packed earth outside. He heard a wolf cry in the distance, then fell asleep.
Ethan realized Horace was home, when he heard him stumbling into the house, slurring his speech while ordering Elspeth to get him something to eat. Ethan tensed in his bed, but waited. Would he need to run to his sister’s aide? Would Howinger become violent in his drunken stupor? Ethan made up his mind to intervene if the old man did try to harm her in a rage, no matter what Elspeth said about it. The outer room grew quiet. Ethan’s door swung open and Elspeth came into his room. His adrenaline surged.
“He’s passed out,” she said. “I need your help to get him into bed.”
Ethan assisted his sister with getting Horace into his bed. He still mumbled through the haze of liquor after they got him situated and closed the door behind them.
“He must be terribly upset to get into this condition,” Elspeth said.
“I suppose we can’t really blame him,” Ethan said. “Who, in their right mind, would want to go before Mordred?”
“We must get to sleep as well,” Elspeth said. “Horace will not be in a gracious mood when he wakes tomorrow.”
Ethan stifled a laugh. Of course, Horace wouldn’t be in a good mood. His head would ache from the strong drink he had been wallowing in and he had a long journey to Mordred’s palace to think about.
As expected, they watched a very sullen Horace Howinger get ready in haste for his journey. When he emerged from his bedroom, his mood had not improved nor his news.
“What?” Elspeth asked doubtfully.
Horace swallowed the last of his coffee. “I said, ‘your brother is coming with me to Mordred’s palace.’”
Elspeth’s mouth hung open. Ethan didn’t know what to think. He certainly did not want to go on a trip of any length with Mr. Howinger, let alone into dangerous territory. But his curiosity piqued at the idea of getting to travel to the palace in Emmanuel and see Lord Mordred, the man who held the entire kingdom in his grasp.
“Did you suppose I would leave the two of you here alone with all of my worldly goods?” Horace asked bitterly. “If I must endure this journey, then I’ll have someone else along to enjoy my misery. And as you send up prayers for your brother’s safe return, I may benefit by proximity.”
It sounded as though Horace meant to mock their faith. However, Ethan knew the man had just enough superstitious faith to hope Shaddai would protect Ethan and those in his company. Horace was not above taking any advantages he might get.
“Go and prepare provisions for our journey, boy, and bring plenty of water skins filled from my well.” Ethan did not even bat an eye in rebellion.
When all was ready, Horace left final instructions for Elspeth regarding the farm and the hired men. When he seemed satisfied that everything was in order, Horace began down the road on his horse toward town. “Hurry along, Ethan,” he said.
“Fine time for you to start being so compliant with his wishes,” Elspeth said, her words laced with sad sarcasm.
“Would my objections have been any more successful than your own, Sister?” Ethan tried deferring to reason, hoping to avoid an argument before he left.
Instead, Elspeth simply nodded and gave Ethan a kiss on the cheek. He climbed up into Whistler’s saddle. Elspeth glanced down the road to make sure that Mr. Howinger was not looking. She lifted her skirt slightly and reached under for an item she had been hiding. Elspeth removed a double-edged short sword in a wooden scabbard and forced it into Ethan’s hands. “Here, keep this with you under your cloak.”
“Why, Sister, I’m surprised at you. How in the world did you come by this?”
“Mr. Howinger had this and many others in an old trunk in the attic. I believe he used to be a soldier at one time. Now, take this and stay safe. You know, Mr. Howinger was right about one thing.”
“Really, what was that?” Ethan asked.
“I will be sending up prayers to the Almighty for your protection every night. Please be careful, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will. How could I not be, with such a devoted sister praying for me? Try not to worry yourself.” He gave her a wink and turned Whistler around. Ethan gave the stallion a prod to the haunches. He and his horse caught up with Horace just beyond the end of the farm road. Elspeth began praying for Ethan right there on the road as she watched the dust stirring behind him.