The Errant Flock by Jana Petken Read Free Book Online Page B

sight of her parents’ bloodied bodies. Again he panicked. What was he to do with her? He couldn’t leave her here with all this death and blood. He was supposed to kill her, he then thought. He couldn’t take her to the castle or to a neighbour’s house, and if she was left to wander the streets, she would be recognised. The duke and his henchman, Garcia, were bound to find out about her, and they would not forgive his disobedience. Dear God, what was to become of her?
    The girl was still staring at him. Her teeth were chattering with fear. She would not go with him willingly. He couldn’t blame her. He must be a terrifying sight.
    “What’s your name, little one?” No response. “I’ll tell you my name …”
    “Mama … Papa,” she cried louder.
    David sighed. His mind was made up. The girl might mean his death, but he wouldn’t take her life to save his own. “We’re going for a walk. Your mama and papa are sleeping. You must be very quiet. We don’t want to wake them up, do we?” He smiled.
    As he lifted her from the bed, she kicked out with her legs and struggled to release herself from his grip. Her sobbing had turned into a soft whimpering, the heart-wrenching sound of a child too exhausted or too scared to cry. Her tiny hands pummelled his chest, but when David opened the door, she became still and looked curiously out onto the street.
    After fumbling with the doorknob but eventually managing to close the door behind him, he hurried from the area, juggling the two babes in his arms beneath his cloak. His muddled mind was filled with questions he couldn’t answer and thoughts which made no sense. Guilt threatened to overpower his determination but there was no more time to think or to fill his mind with self-hatred. He had streets to manoeuvre, two babies to keep quiet, and a steep hill to climb.
     
    The Mass was over. Torches flickered, guiding the people leaving the church, which was at the base of the hill. David believed that he still had time to avoid a throng of people, but he could see torchlights already flickering on the same road that he had taken from the south-east gate. He swore. He couldn’t go back up the hill the same way he’d come down it. He would meet processionals head-on. The duke had left no time for error, he thought. He must have known this might happen but hadn’t cared. Cursing again, he prayed for a life of torment for Luis Peráto.
    Hurrying along a street which had a steep upward incline, he tried to picture the safest route back to the castle. He knew this to be a long street. At the end of it, he would have to climb thirteen stone steps, marking the boundary line for this section of the town. Beyond the steps, the hill looked more like a cliff face covered with large jagged rocks. It would be impossible to climb with two babies in his arms.
    He stopped, defeated, sick with shame, and mindful of his stupidity. The initial idea of taking the girl home to the farm now seemed ludicrous. He doubted he could take her anywhere. The only way he could get up to Garcia, waiting for him at the north-east gate, was if he left the child somewhere along the way. He’d just have to pray that she’d still be there when he eventually got back to her.
    There was a bitter chill in the air. The infant was well wrapped, but the girl had nothing but a fine blanket and nightgown to cover her, and every time she squirmed, her legs dangled outside of his cloak folds. He had to find her some shelter now.
    Upon reaching the top of the steps, he searched for the spot where the next section of the town began. Farther up the hill and heading north was the high wall that separated the Jewry from other areas in Sagrat. Behind the wall lived what was left of the Jewish community. Once a bustling neighbourhood of affluent Jews and thriving businesses, it now stood a sad, dilapidated cluster of streets full of abandoned homes and empty shops. It was a prison in all but name, David thought.