Benjamin’s voice interrupted his reading. “Has anyone else noticed how light it’s getting?”
Thomas looked out the eastern window. The sky was turning from black to blue, and the first light of the morning was touching the clouds overhead.
“Any sign that they’re leaving?” asked Henry.
Thomas craned his neck towards the dormitory. “I don’t think… wait.” He looked closer. “The soldiers are coming out of the dormitory.”
“The riders are all coming in,” said Benjamin from the other side. “I think they’re headed for the gates.”
“How about the students?” asked Henry, coming over to join Thomas.
“Some are being herded together,” Thomas said, watching the bishop’s troops round the students up and lead them towards the gates. The other students were following behind. Even over the distance and through the glass, Thomas could hear them shouting. “The rest are not too happy.”
“Are all the troops going?”
“Aye, I think so.”
“Thank the Four,” Benjamin said fervently. “Can we leave now?”
“Aye.” Thomas picked up the book and his sword. “But not through the cemetery. Everyone will see us if we head that way now.”
“Then where?” asked George.
“Back the way we came. To Theology, then around and through the kitchen door.”
“Everyone in the dormitory will see us,” said Benjamin.
“Everyone in the dormitory will see us in the dormitory,” corrected Henry. “Which is where students are supposed to be.”
“We’d better run,” Eileen pointed out the window to the lightening sky. “Dawn is coming on quickly.”
“Then open the door, and let’s run.”
They trooped to the door. Henry found the right key and unlocked it, and the five slipped outside and into the thin light of the morning. The sun hadn’t cleared the horizon yet, but the black shadows of the night were gone, replaced with pre-dawn grey. In the east, the first true colours were beginning to show through. It looked like it would be a very nice sunrise, but none of them took the time to watch. Henry locked the library door and they all took off at a run, charging for the Theology building. On one side, the voices of the students, loud and angry, were filling the air with talk of riot. From the other direction, quieter but equally strident, the Masters were arguing about what to do. Neither group saw or heard the five black-robed figures crossing the grounds.
They reached Theology unseen and ran around the building rather than going inside. They stopped at the final corner. Ahead of them, Thomas could see the kitchen door, a short dash away.
“The staff will be in the kitchens,” said Benjamin.
“After all this?” Eileen asked, amazed. “How could they?”
“They live in the building,” Henry explained. “The last time they didn’t have breakfast on time was the day the dormitory caught fire. A little event like this won’t even slow them down.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Thomas, taking off his sword and hiding it under his robe. “It’s still our best way in.”
“So what do we say to them?” asked Benjamin.
“ ‘Good morning,’ ” said Henry. “Now come on.”
They charged across the lawns, found the kitchen door unlocked, and the staff at work inside. With nodded “good mornings” the five made their way through and out the other side. Several disapproving glares fell their way, and the head chef gave them several succinct words about going where they didn’t belong and after such a night as well. Henry gave a short, eloquent apology, but none of them slowed down.
“All right,” Thomas began as soon as they left the kitchen, “let’s get the—”
He got no further when the sound of returning students filled the building. Voices shouted back and forth in outrage, and footsteps echoed through the hallways.
Henry cursed. “They’ll be coming from everywhere.”
“Just act like you were here all night,” Thomas said. “Once we’re through the baths, we can run.”
They went through at a fast walk. Students hurried past. Others stood in clusters, arguing. The younger ones looked to be in shock, faces pale and occasionally smeared with tears. The older ones didn’t seem any less shaken, but anger was the main emotion among them.
Thomas realized he was still wearing his rapier at the same time he saw that he wasn’t the only one. Any student who owned a sword had it with him, the rules to the contrary having been obviously disregarded for the morning.
The five pushed through the crowd, nodding and making appropriate comments, but never stopping. A sharp turn and a short flight of stairs later, they were into the bathhouse.
The place was nearly full. Many of the students, it seemed, had decided to make up for their lack of sleep with a morning dip. Boys and young men were jumping in and out of the baths, scrubbing themselves at the basins, and hurling angry ideas back and forth. Some wanted to write letters to the king, others to march on the bishop’s house. Thomas dodged through them, heading for the door to the courtyard and escape.
“Thomas!”
George’s call brought Thomas to a stop. He turned and saw Eileen, stuck just inside the door of the bathhouse, with a dozen naked young men blocking her path and arguing vociferously. She was trying to get through, but no one was moving and several of them were turning to her demanding her opinion. She didn’t answer any of them, and her face was working very hard to be the same colour as her hair.
Thomas turned back, and with George beside him, cleared a path to her and grabbed her arms. Several students protested at being shoved aside, but took one look at George and let the matter alone. Thomas and George pulled her the length of the hall and out into the courtyard. Henry and Benjamin were already there, waiting for them to catch up. The five dashed across the courtyard to the little path and the gate beyond. The guard Thomas had feared would be there was gone. He threw open the gate and led the others in a mad run down the road to the apartment block.
Chapter 23
The apartments were just coming to life, though no one was actually outside when Thomas and his friends ran into the courtyard. Voices carried past them from each floor as the five climbed the stairs and stumbled into the apartment. Henry pulled the balcony doors shut and put on the latch. Thomas was ready to collapse on the spot, and from the look of his friends, so were they.
“I do not,” Benjamin gasped, “believe we got out of there.”
“Neither do I,” agreed Thomas. “I thought we were dead.”
“I think your friend may be,” said Henry, pointing.
George was sitting on the floor, head in his hands. Eileen knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”
George shook his head. Thomas came over. “Anything we can do?”
One of George’s big hands reached out, wrapped itself into Thomas’s shirt and pulled him in close. George raised his head and their eyes met. For a moment, Thomas was afraid. George’s eyes narrowed, then his mouth widened into a big, relieved grin. “Aye,” he said. “You can never make me do anything like that again, you twit.” He let go of Thomas and pushed him back. “If our father heard about this, he’d kill us all. Twice.”
“And that’s before he finds out Thomas has been kissing his daughter,” added Henry, stepping to the cupboards and pulling out a bottle of wine.
“You know just how to say the wrong thing, don’t you?” Thomas realized he was grinning, too. Around the room, his friends all had similar expressions on their faces; relief and exhaustion and victory intermingling. Benjamin was swaying on his feet. Henry, pouring himself some wine, looked like death warmed over. George and Eileen were on the floor, leaning on one another.
All for me,
Thomas realized.
They all risked themselves for me.
“Thank you,” Thomas said, “All of you.”
Henry waved him off. “It was fun.”
“It was not,” objected Benjamin. “It was dangerous.”
“And that’s what makes it fun.” Henry held up the bottle. “Everyone come and get some.”
Henry filled the cups, and Thomas, rather than making everyone go to Henry, passed them around. They drank the wine down as Henry poured a second for himself. He quaffed it, then said, “We’d best get ready.”
“Ready?” Benjamin repeated, incredulously. He put his cup down and headed for his room. “I am not getting ready for anything except bed. See you this evening.”
“Don’t bother,” said Henry. “You won’t get the chance.”
Benjamin stopped to look at Henry. “Why not?”
A bell rang from the Academy, sharp and loud and pealing through the air. There was a moment of silence around them, then the sound of doors being thrown open and students racing down the stairs. Thomas led Eileen and George to the balcony. All around them, students were racing out of the building, most carrying swords.
“That’s not the same bell as yesterday,” said Eileen, watching the chaos below. “What is it?”
“Alarm,” said Henry from inside. “I’m surprised they didn’t ring it last night.”
“The soldiers probably stopped them,” said Thomas. He went back inside. “You two should get going. And wear your swords.”
George looked confused. “You said swords aren’t allowed in the Academy.”
“They aren’t, normally,” said Henry, stepping onto the balcony as he put on an intricately tooled sword belt. The blade that hung off it was of much higher quality than the one Thomas wore, with an intricately engraved bell guard. He drew the blade half-way, then let it slide back in the sheath.
Behind him, Benjamin was buckling on his own sword belt which held his own, much plainer weapon.
“I thought you were studying to be a priest,” Eileen said.
“I am,” Benjamin tightened the buckle in the belt. “It was a gift from my father my first year here. When I realized I wanted to be a priest, I put it away.” He drew it half-way, looking at the blade for rust. “I never expected to wear it again.”
“We’ll come back as soon as we can,” promised Henry, “and tell you all the news.”
He led Benjamin out the door and down the stairs. Thomas watched them go.
Beside him, Eileen said, “Now what do we do?”
“We sleep,” said George, pushing himself to his feet. “Benjamin had the right idea.”
“He did,” agreed Eileen, stifling a yawn. “Though how we’ll sleep through this racket,” she gestured in the direction of the still-pealing alarm bells, “is beyond me.”
“I’ll manage it,” promised George, heading for the bedroom. “See you two later.”
“Are you going to sleep, too?” Eileen asked Thomas.
Thomas shook his head. “Not yet. You two get some sleep. I’ll stay here for a while.”
Eileen hesitated a moment, then followed her brother into the bedroom. Thomas stayed out on the balcony, listening to the alarm bell. It rang for most of an hour before it finally fell silent. Thomas listened for sounds of fighting, or arguing, or anything to indicate what was happening. There was nothing. He sighed. At least there hadn’t been a riot.
He waited a while longer, then picked up his sword and belt, and crept quietly out the back door and down to the street. He took a long, circuitous route, keeping his eyes sharp for any sign of the bishop’s men. There were none. Thomas got within sight of the Academy’s gates, found them closed. It was the only time he had ever seen them shut during the day. It didn’t bode well, Thomas thought, but at least there was no sign of anyone fighting.
He turned away and walked to the market. He would get food for everyone. After that, he would start reading the books Henry and Eileen had found. Maybe there he could find some answers on how to deal with the bishop.
A yawn caught Thomas off-guard, bringing him to a halt as it worked its way through his body. He added a nap to the list of things he needed to do.
The market was bustling with early-morning shoppers; housewives come to collect the day’s meal, servants picking up orders for their masters, tavern and restaurant owners bespeaking the best goods for their establishments. Thomas didn’t take long to find a baker’s stand, and he bought enough beef pies, tarts, and pastries to feed all five of them. He stopped at the fruit seller’s next, then a wine stall. He bought some bottles of a substantially better wine than the one they’d been drinking. The price made him wince a bit, but his friends deserved a treat.
“Hear the news! Come hear the news!”
The loud voice and ringing bell called for everyone’s attention. Thomas turned with the rest of the crowd to see a Crier, dressed in the bright colours of his profession, step up onto a small stool. Thomas, too tired to care, shouldered his purchases and was about to leave the market when he caught the words, “By order of the bishop!”
“Wanted for witchcraft and murder!” the Crier called. “Thomas Flarety! A fugitive from the town of Elmvale! Seen with a large man and a red-haired girl! Wanted by the church for witchcraft and murder!”
Thomas felt himself go pale. The Crier kept going, calling out descriptions of all three of them. It was all Thomas could do to keep from running. Instead, he turned slowly around and headed back towards the apartment. Behind him, the Crier repeated the message.
Thomas felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Someone, he was sure, would see him and grab him. He desperately wanted his back against a wall and his sword in his hand, even though he knew there was nothing in the world that would draw attention to him faster than that. He kept walking, not making eye contact with anyone, moving at the same pace as the rest of the crowd until he was clear of the market.
In the street Thomas let himself pick up the pace. He moved through the neighbourhood at a brisk walk, dodging other pedestrians and carts and carriages until he reached the apartment. He would have taken the stairs two at a time if he hadn’t been weighted down with food. Thomas hustled up them as quickly as he could and into the apartment. It wasn’t until the door was shut behind him and he had thrown the bolt that he felt some small measure of relief. He put the food down on the table and sank onto one of the chairs. Everything suddenly felt overwhelming again. He put his face into his hands, retreating into the darkness there.
“Thomas?”
He pulled his head up. Eileen was standing in the door, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was still dressed in her shirt and breeches, though her feet were bare on the floor.