Page 42 of May Queen: May Day

“Nay,” she answered with a giggle, wishing she did.

“Then we shall name our first daughter Fauna, and let her grow up playing with the wildlife in our garden, just like a little fae.”

“Our d-daughter?” she asked, never having thought much before about having children. But now that he said it, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was a handsome, good man, and she knew he’d make a wonderful father to her children. She wanted her babies to look like him, and now she wanted many. “How many sons and daughters do you want?” she asked him.

“As many as you’ll give me.” He held her hand in his and kissed it. It happened to be the hand that she wore the ring on, and now she wished she had removed the jewelry. He touched the circular piece, running his thumb over the etchings, studying it closely. “This ring,” he said.

“What about it?” she asked guardedly.

“Tell me about it.”

“I already told you, it was a trinket my mother picked up from a peddler.”

She pulled back her hand, wanting to change the subject before he started asking about Druids again.

“Lord Ricard, are you in there?” came Nash’s voice from the entrance to the garden.

“That boy is a pest,” grumbled Ricard, looking up toward the gate. “Why are you bothering me when I’m in my garden?” Ricard called out. “I’ve told you a million times that when I’m here, I want to be left alone.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but there is someone here to see you.”

“There is? Who?”

“It is a traveler passing through who wants to know if you would hire him for odd jobs. I think he said his name was Mug.”

Flora gasped at hearing the man’s name. Ricard turned and looked at her suspiciously.

“What is the matter, my lady?”

“I – I think I swallowed a bug,” she said, holding her hand to her mouth. That made Nash laugh.

“Aye, Nash. Tell the man the gong pit needs cleaning and that I want the dungeon scrubbed down and all the cells emptied of remnants from past prisoners. Tell him he can sleep in the stable while he’s at the castle.”

“Aye, my lord, I’ll let him know at once.”

“Actually, I’d like to meet the man,” he added as an afterthought. “If he’s going to be inside my castle walls, I’ll need to know what he looks like so I don’t mistake him for a blasted Druid and take off his head before he has a chance to explain.”

Nash and Ricard left the garden, leaving Flora standing there alone. She didn’t like the idea of a Druid being inside the castle walls. Mug had to be here looking for the necklace. She pulled the necklace out of her pocket, fingering the piece in thought. All she had to do was to give it to her father and the Druids’ lives would be spared. They’d leave the forest and travel across the sea, and Ricard would never find them. But her father wanted to take her with him. Part of her wanted to go. However, after being in Ricard’s arms and kissing him again, her head was filled with visions of being his wife and bearing him a dozen children. She kissed the gold icon and tucked it back into her pocket. Her father would have to wait a little longer, because she had not yet made her decision.

* * *

“So,Mug, where do you come from and where does your family reside?” asked Ricard.

“I am alone, my lord. I have no family,” said the man. He was dressed in simple woolen clothes and wore a coarsely woven brown cloak as well. “I travel the lands working for noblemen to earn my food and for a place to lay my head.”

“Then you’re good at manual labor?” asked Ricard, eyeing him up.

“I work hard and can do any chore, my lord. You will be pleased, I assure you.”

Ricard’s eyes fell to the man’s hands. They weren’t dirty at all, and there were no calluses to be seen. He also noticed the man missing a thumb on his right hand. He wasn’t sure how anyone could do manual labor in that condition. He was about to change his mind and send him away, but decided to keep him close. Perhaps Ricard could learn if the man had seen any of the pagans in the woods on his travels. He didn’t seem to be much of a threat since he obviously couldn’t even hold a weapon.

“Have you noticed anyone lurking in the woods during your travels?” asked Ricard.

“Do you mean bandits, my lord?”

“Nay. I mean pagans. Especially Druids.”

The man’s head snapped up. He looked surprised at first and then an expression washed over his face that was a cross between anger and despair.