Page 14 of Dancing On Air

“You know that no one in town will hire us,” said Leoric.

“Well, I’ve got to try,” said Connor. “I’m not just going to give up.”

“I want to go to school to learn to read and write,” said Alaric out of nowhere.

“Nay, Alaric,” said Connor. “I told you, since we are the family of a hangman, none of us are allowed in school. I or Leoric will teach you instead.”

“Father said you saw Eleanor,” said Leoric, changing the conversation once again. “I remember her. She was nice. And pretty.”

“Who is Eleanor?” asked Alaric, as they approached the house. Connor put his youngest brother down.

“She’s Connor’s betrothed,” Leoric told him. “That means they are getting married.”

“Nay,” said Connor. “She used to be my betrothed, but not anymore. We will never get married now.” He opened the door and they entered the cottage to find their father bent over the table wrapped in a blanket. Little Ginevra was holding a spoon with soup on it up to his mouth.

“Connor!” Ginevra put the spoon back in the bowl and ran over to hug him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Don’t hug me, Sister. I am too wet from the rain,” Connor told her, removing the wet cloak from around Alaric.

“I’m hungry,” complained Alaric, climbing atop a stool, reaching for the pot in the center of the table.

“You already had soup,” Ginevra scolded him. “We need to save some for Connor and Father.”

“I’m not hungry. Alaric can have mine,” said Connor, feeling his stomach growling.

“Alaric, I thought you said my soup tasted like piss.” Ginevra crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her younger brother.

“It does. But I don’t care. I’m hungry,” said Alaric, always having an appetite. Connor was sure the little boy was going to grow taller than him someday.

“I’ll go hunt,” offered Connor, but his father stopped him.

“Nay, Connor. We can’t risk you being caught by one of Sampson’s guards.

“Then I’ll go to town and find something for us to eat there.”

“The money is all gone,” said Leoric.

“Nay, it can’t be. We were paid for a hanging today,” said Connor, looking over at his father.

His father lowered his face to the table, not looking at Connor. “Use the coin the thief paid us at the hanging, Son.”

“I-I can’t,” said Connor, running a hand through his long, wet hair and looking the other way.

“Why the hell not?” growled Wensel, his body shivering under the blanket. He pulled out a wineskin that Connor knew contained whisky and took a long swig.

“I gave the coin back to the thief’s widow,” explained Connor, knowing his father wasn’t going to like hearing this.

“Why the hell would you do such a daft thing?” yelled Wensel, the uproar sending him into a coughing fit.

“The poor woman had two children to raise,” said Connor softly.

“And I’ve got five,” snapped Wensel, taking another swig of whisky. “So what’s the difference?”

“Four children, Father,” Ginevra corrected him. “Remember, there are only four of now, since Francesca died.”

“We needed that money,” said Wensel, shaking his head. “If you could stop spending our coins on whores, mayhap we wouldn’t be going hungry.”

“You did?” asked Leoric, his eyes growing wide, suddenly interested in this bit of information.