Chapter Five

The cantering horses gradually slowed as they reached the road that skirted the forest, riders and horses breathing hard.

“You set a punishing pace, my dear,” said the jolly-faced man riding at the front, his words punctuated with a hearty laugh.

The woman he spoke to smiled widely, her cheeks flushed from the exertions of the ride. “It’s been too long since we’ve ridden like this. I miss it, Edmund.”

The escort of eight remained around the couple as they walked their horses towards the castle in the distance.

He reached over to cover her gloved hand with his. “I know, my love, I know. Now that the first of Kelvan’s gatherings is done, I can stay closer to home,” he said, referring to their emperor. “Though I’m sure it won’t be long before you’ll be begging me to leave, to find some kingly duty to attend to.”

She raised her brows, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek. “As if I would ever do that.” Her feigned surprise dissolved into a laugh.

As he laughed with his wife, Anna, his gaze lingered on her. Even though her auburn hair was pinned up in a bun, the silver threads in it sparkled in the sun, and there were a few more lines around her eyes when she laughed. To him, it only made her more beautiful.

It hadn’t been love at first sight for him when he’d met Anna. For so many years, he’d stubbornly refused to marry, believing he would spend his days alone. But he found he was no match for her sunny disposition and wicked sense of humour.

Without warning, the escort’s horse closest to Anna shied, knocking into her mount. Almost falling, she managed to recover.

“My lady, forgive me.” The soldier struggled to bring his horse under control.

“What happened–”

“Watch yourself, man.” Edmund’s booming voice interrupted her.

“Edmund, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry.”

“Something must have startled him, my lady. He is usually a steady–”

“Look,” said another, pointing to the forest.

Edmund moved his horse closer to the tree line. Spying something red, he dismounted.

“What is it?” called Anna.

“Wait there.” He motioned for his men to follow him; two dismounted and drew their swords.

Edmund followed the trail of red cloth around a tree. And stopped. He signalled his men to stay back as he slowly crouched down. “Good day, young one. What are you doing out here?”

Pressed against the tree, clutching the red cloth to his chest, the boy stared at Edmund with wide, tear-filled eyes.

He removed his glove and held out his large, sturdy hand. “Come, do not be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

The child kept looking around, saying nothing, not moving.

Edmund glanced back. “Bring the queen.” His heart constricted at the sight of one so small, so alone, so obviously scared. Then he heard Anna’s voice.

“Edmund, what is-oh.”

Feeling her hand on his shoulder, he slowly got to his feet and stepped back, allowing her to get closer to the boy.

Lifting her ivy-coloured riding skirt slightly, she knelt before him. “Hello. My name is Anna. What’s yours?”

Silence.

“Are you lost?”

His gaze darted about as a fat tear tumbled down his face.

“Will you come with me? On my horse?”

Slowly, he looked at her.

“You wish to see my horse?” She held out her hand.

He stared at it before slowly walking forward.

Straightening up, Anna took hold of his hand and returned her husband’s smile. They watched as the boy paused and looked back at the forest. His shoulders slumped, and he allowed himself to be led away.

Walking back to their horses, Edmund said to one of his men. “When we return, gather men and fresh horses. Search the forest for any sign of his people.”

Once Anna was on her horse, he lifted the boy up to her. “That is an unusual pendant.”

With one arm around the child, she cupped the pendant for a closer look, her thumb on the thin border of twisted gold, which encased an oval, blood-red stone.

The boy immediately put his hand on it. “Safe,” he whispered.

Edmund’s vision blurred as Anna bit her lip. He silently wondered if the pendant had belonged to the boy’s mother. How strange that the pendant and boy’s jacket pointed to wealth, yet his trousers were ragged and his feet bare. What had befallen his family that he’d been left alone and afraid in the forest? By the time he mounted his horse, Edmund’s mind was set. If the boy’s family couldn’t be found, he would still have a family; Edmund and Anna would love him as their own.

His orphaned state would not matter for adoption, even of foundlings, was common practice in their land, especially if it was to ensure the continuation of the family line.

“Ma! Ma.”

“What’s all the noise for, girl?”

“Come and see.”

“Oh, Emily. We should be looking for these blessed herbs, not wasting time; it’s too hot.”

When her daughter showed no sign of returning to her side, Agnes had no choice but to go to her. Wiping her sweaty brow on her sleeve, the short woman marched over. “What is it? I’m tired and I want-oh! Saints in heaven.” Her hand flew to her chest as her brows shot up to hide in her scarf.

“See?” Hopping from foot to foot, Emily tugged on her twin braids.

“Oh, the poor little lamb. What are you doing here all on your own? Emily, be still. You’ll frighten him with your jumping about.”

The pale boy sat slumped against the tree, watching them almost disinterestedly. He moved his dry lips a few times before he managed to say, “Lenya,” his voice raspy, soft.

“He can talk,” said Emily, her grey-blue eyes wide.

Agnes frowned. “What is that? Is that your name?” She hitched up her skirt, revealing her grazed ankles, and knelt in front of him.

After a few more attempts, he said, “Water.”

“I have no water with me, little love. How long have you been here?” Agnes couldn’t bring herself to ask where his family was.

He looked at her, saying nothing.

Emily tapped her mother’s shoulder repeatedly. “Can we take him home, Ma?”

Clicking her tongue, Agnes glanced back at her daughter. She was always wanting to bring lost things home, a trait that showed no sign of dissipating even though she was almost eight. Rabbits and birds were one thing, but a child? Someone else’s child? And yet, Agnes could hardly leave the boy alone, on the outskirts of the forest. Sitting back on her heels, she gave a firm nod.

“Here, Emily, take the basket. I’ll carry him.” Getting to her feet, she bent down to lift him; he flinched away. “Oh, there now, little love, don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. I’ll take you home and care for you.”

His frown gradually disappeared as he fixed her with his grey-black eyes. “Care?”

Her smile made her nose crinkle. “Yes. My name is Agnes and this hopping rabbit is my girl, Emily. Will you come with us?”

Hesitantly, he placed his hand in her rough one and allowed her to pull him up. Then he turned to look into the forest, his expression one of loss.

Agnes followed his gaze, her heart aching for him. How long had he been on his own? And what had happened to his family? From the cut and fine material of his shirt and trousers, and his well-made shoes, she suspected he must be nobility. She would ask her husband to listen out for news of recent tragedy befalling a noble family in the area.

“Come, little one.” She lifted him in her arms.

Emily ran ahead, stopping every now and again for her mother to catch up. “Can I tell Da? Please, Ma, say I can.”

“Calm down, girl. Let’s not make a big fuss. I don’t want to frighten him.”

Emily stopped, her head to one side. “Frighten Da?”

“The boy, you goose.”

By the time they reached the track leading up to the castle, Agnes’ cheeks were rosy and glistening. Breathing heavily from her exertions, a sheen of sweat on her brow, she continued to carry the boy, not wanting to put him down or make him walk. He’d wrapped his thin arms around her neck, his head resting on her shoulder.

“There, see? That is where we live, in that fine castle.”

He lifted his head and turned to look but was struggling to keep his eyes open.

Agnes held him closer. She would care for him and feed him, and her family would show him so much love, he’d forget the pain he was carrying.