Debra Kay Leland Read Free Page B

those seated there that he was not well, for his ashen color and unsteady hands told more than words ever could.
     
    He glanced around the table unable to ignore his brother’s vacant seat and scolded himself for thinking dark thoughts right then, and yet the thoughts would not leave him…  He knew there was no love lost between them.  And though it was a hard thought, it was the only thing that made sense—that for mere hatred James had wished him dead; and yet he could not bring himself to speak it.
     
    It was a slow journey back, nigh three months, and the whole while James had yet to show his face at Whittington with the excuse of the grainery they built, saying it took longer than they expected.  It was no surprise that none of his messages inquired as to his brother’s health.  What was sent only gave them a timeline for his returned and one that William took seriously!  But yet, his brother’s absence gave him the opportunity to mend and that’s all he needed, just a little more time...  He took his meals in the great hall and rode with Thomas and Phillip near the castle, each time venturing out a little farther, and each time growing a little stronger...  But in truth, it wasn’t until he took his sword in hand as they practiced that he felt that all would be well once again—and that finally he was ready to go on.
     
    T hree weeks later he finally went down to his father’s solar to bid him farewell, knowing all the while that his father had no idea of the words he would soon speak to him.  James had not yet returned—but from all reports the mill was nigh completed; and he had sent word back to Whittington saying to expect him at any time.  For William, it was taken as a threat even if the rest of Whittington talked happily about his brother’s return…  But he himself could not help but worry—though he had no proof that his brother was involved, yet in his heart he knew it to be true...
     
    The headaches remained, though they were fewer and farther between, and it gave him hope that soon he would be well again.  But though he wasn’t fully recovered he knew it was just as risky to leave, as to stay here—and yet, what choice did he have?  The amour and the skilled swordsman all pointed to one of their own men, and only James’ men had not been accounted for.  And he knew his brother wished him harm, for had he not spoken such a thousand times over in their youth, and even the very day they had ridden out in battle…?
     
    He went to his father’s solar and knocked softly before he was bid to enter; then opened the door and came forward not being able to meet his father’s tender gaze for guilt of the sorrow he was soon to bestow on him.  He sat down on the chair to his right without a smile as the older man set aside the missive he had been looking at, then took up his cup of wine leaning back in his chair as he spoke gently to his son, “Ah, and to what do I owe the pleasure of thy company?”
    William purposefully looked down at his thinned hands that were clasped together in front of him, not willing to see the hurt he would soon cause in his father’s blue eyes.  “…I am afraid ye shall not be pleased, father, for I have not come with good news for thee this day.”
    His father frowned at the strange words his son spoke.  “What is this about, William?”
    He drew a deep breath.   “Father, I am leaving…”
    His father leaned forward and grasped his wrist.  “Nay!  I forbid it!  William—be reasonable ye are not yet well!  Why must ye do this thing now?!  And where would ye go?!”
    William leaned back with a sad sigh and looked into the man’s concerned eyes, knowing all the while he could never tell him the real reason why he must leave...  “I know ye do not understand, and even now I’m not sure I can help ye to do so; but I have given it much thought and I have decided to go back to Glenton Moor.”
    The breath whooshed from his father’s lungs