The Way Back

Chapter Nineteen

Wind-driven rain stung her face, and Meg stumbled as someone knocked against her. Ducking beneath an arch, she checked instinctively beneath her cloak for the coins she'd tucked inside the pouch sewn inside her gown.

It had been one of the first lessons learned here, to keep valuables safely out of reach and sight.

They'd been in the city several weeks. The Archbishop owned several lodgings and had settled them, along with Archer, in a house which stood so close against St Peter's church that its weathered stone tower blocked out most of the meagre light. If Meg stood right by the window, where the cold crept in most brutally, she could see the church's small garden, its straggle of bushes lining the path to the street. Occasionally, returning from the bustle outside, when the city closed in on her and the quiet of the forest seemed furthest away, she'd crave that glimpse of green for the poor reminder it was of another life.

She was growing accustomed to this one. The excitement of these first weeks had less to do with a new place, and everything to do with Guy. They spent their days apart, as Hubert kept him busy at the castle. Sometimes those duties took him away for days at a time, if the archbishop had communications which required both secrecy and a swift rider. The maid that came several days a week would live-in whenever Guy was absent, but he was never comfortable leaving her. At times Archer, too, would disappear, though whether this was due to the archbishop or his natural restlessness Meg wasn't sure.

She didn't mind having Archer around. Some evenings, she'd go upstairs first and as she waited for Guy it warmed her heart to hear the murmur of voices and occasional laughter as the brothers sat by the fire over their mulled wine. But Guy never delayed long coming up. The nights were theirs, and those days when Archer was away. Sometimes, in the market-place, she'd feel her face heat and then not quite know how she came from one stall to the next, consumed as she was by the ache to be with him again.

A second nudge shook Meg out of her distraction. The cover of her basket had been dislodged, and the loaf of bread pilfered. She quickly checked that the other ingredients cook had requested were still there –

"....if it please mi'lady, my babe's sick...have you coin to spare?"

A woman with a tattered cap and stained teeth nodded at the bundle she carried; a rough hand grabbed hold of hers.

"He came over coughing last night, I couldn't get him to stop – I need a physician – please, can you help?"

Meg peered closely, but the swaddling obscured the child. Someone touched her shoulder from behind.

"Yes lady – that's my wee brother, can you help us?"

Meg glanced round, into deceptively mild eyes; a tall, thin-faced girl with a wispy braid, who then brazenly lifted the cover of Meg's basket.

"I don't think....ow...."

The other woman tightened her grip on Meg's hand, and began intently working the ring from her finger. As Meg tried to yank free, the girl pulled on the basket.

"Somebody, help!" she cried, but the weather had driven most customers away and Meg realised this had made the pickpockets, who normally worked quickly and silently among the crowds, much bolder.

It was clear they were determined to get either her ring or the provisions. Meg clamped her fist shut around the older woman's fingers, eliciting a yelp. At the same time she lunged toward the girl, shoving the basket into her chest. The older one pinched her arm, hard, with her free hand, but instead of releasing her Meg balanced herself and swung the woman round so that her attackers collided.

"Little bitch," the thief snarled, losing all pretence.

The bundle, moments before supposedly a child, was dropped to the ground. Meg dodged a punch, backed out of reach and then turned and ran, out into the needle-sharp rain. Hearing a shout, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that yellow-teeth had called for help. A large man with a beard and a cowl sloped along beneath the stall awnings, keeping pace with her, waiting to see which way she would go. She saw the flash of a blade, and panicked.