Eat the Poor

XIII

I was scrubbing sweat from a saddle over my knee when the young page arrived breathless at the door.

"Letter for Mr Murray, sir," he said, his adolescent voice high-pitched. He held a piece of parchment in his hand, folded in half so its contents were obscured from view.

Amadi faced the group. "Which of you is Mr Murray?"

The other grooms exchanged shrugs and anticipatory glances, waiting for the man to be revealed. I realized I had yet to give any of them my surname. "I am," I said, my voice wobbling slightly. What if something had happened back home? Would Westley even bother to tell me if our mother had taken ill?

The page walked over and presented the parchment in a sweeping bow. Only five words were written, in a delicate, flowing hand, like the letters were soft dandelion seeds floating over a meadow.

A single purple thistle was pressed to the page.

Philip, I thought.

"Oi, let's see it," one of the boys called. He snatched the parchment from me and held it close to his face. "Teh- Tie-"

"Piss off, you know you can't read," another said.

"It's some sort of sappy love letter," a third joined in.

A rush of urgency powered through my sluggish limbs. This was my second chance. My offer of forgiveness. "I must go," I said. "At once-"

"Absolutely not." Amadi's deep voice cut me off. "Back to work, all of you. Your little lady-friend can wait."

"Ha!" one of the stable grooms chuckled. "Little lady-friend." He slapped the arm of his friend as they walked into the tack room.

A sense of hopelessness filled me as I twirled the dried thistle between two fingers. It had been only a few hours since the incident with Hero and the Marquis, and now this. No wonder Amadi was so suspicious of me. Trouble surrounded me like the flies surrounding our horses.

"I, uh, I just remembered," I said, my hands trembling as I tucked the thistle into my vest. "I'm to retrieve the horses from the pasture."

"Not so fast, Mr..." Amadi blocked the door. "What did he call you? Murray? If you think you can just waltz in and out of here whenever you please-"

"Who, me?" I gave him a reassuring smile. "Never."

The taller man's eyes narrowed. "I don't like you, Murray," he murmured. "If it weren't for your... esteemed recommendation... you'd be long gone."

I chuckled. The sound came out tight and high as if someone had just gotten through strangling me. "I won't be two minutes. Promise."

"Murray-" I flinched as his fingers jabbed into my collarbone. "I best not find you anywhere but that pasture."

"You won't, sir." I gave him a little salute and trotted out the back entrance of the stable.

I really, really needed to keep my job.