Page 81 of The Silent Songbird
“Westley! Eva!” A group of people, including his brothers and sisters and several townspeople and servants, approached them on the road.
“Where have you been?”
“We heard someone tried to kill you.”
“Was it John Underhill?”
“Are you injured? What happened? What did he do?”
Westley said in her ear, “We will talk more of this later.”
She squeezed his hand.
He smiled at the people surrounding them.
“Leave the poor young man alone,” someone said. “Cannot you see he wants to spend time with the pretty maiden?”
Westley raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. “I am very well, thank you. The people who attacked me are being dealt with by my father. Now, please go back to enjoying the festival.”
Someone else shouted, “The man is obviously not injured. Stand back and let him through.”
Westley managed to work his way out of the crowd, and he andEvangeline made their way toward the festival. Soon they were entering the area where the vendors were selling their wares, and jongleurs and minstrels were performing.
Westley bought some buns and some freshly roasted meat, and Evangeline walked beside him to the rear of the newly built stage. He pushed back the curtain that was strung over some rope between two trees, and they sat in between the two curtains, one at the back of the stage and the other at the front. They were alone.
“I thought I was dreaming when I saw you shoot that man with your arrow.” He swallowed a gulp of ale from a flask he was sharing with Eva.
“Did you see Reeve Folsham knock that man out with a block of wood?”
“He’s as big as a bear. The man’s lucky the reeve did not break his neck.”
“And the look on John’s face?”
“When you held your arrow pointed at him—for the second time?”
They both laughed softly. Westley’s hand brushed hers as she reached for the ale flask. She took a drink, letting her shoulder press against his as they sat side by side at the edge of the stage. She put down the flask, and Westley was staring at her.
“Will you miss Berkhamsted Castle? If you stay here with us?”
She shook her head.
“We cannot let anyone know who you really are. You can never see the king again. You will have to hide for the rest of your life.”
“I do not mind.”
He deliberately brushed her little finger with his.
“I like Glynval Castle better.”
He leaned his head until it was touching hers. “Why?”
“I like the people who live there.”
“All the people?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any one in particular you like better?” He took one of her tiny braids that was lying on her shoulder and rolled it between his fingers.
