Page 27 of Dancing On Air

Chapter5

“Ilove apple pie,” said little Alaric the next morning, sitting at the table holding one in front of him with his eyes wide. A smile crossed the boy’s face and his tongue shot out to lick his lips.

“I know it won’t be as good as Francesca used to make, but I think I remembered the recipe correctly, and had just enough flour and butter to make it,” said Connor, having awoken before the others to make the special treat. Since they didn’t have an oven, but just an open fire to cook over, he had cooked the shell of the pie first, and then added the apples so the shell would not get gooey. He cooked it all in a clay pot with a lid over it.

“I could have helped you. You should have woken me up,” said his sister Ginevra with a yawn, sitting down at the table with a blanket wrapped around her.

“Nay, I wanted to let all of you sleep,” Connor told them. “Besides, you made the stew last night.

“I still say you should have let me set traps in the forest to catch our food instead of taking scraps of meat meant for dogs,” complained Leoric. “We don’t need charity.”

“Nay, Connor’s right,” said their father, emerging from the bedroom with his hand on his head. After all he had drunk yesterday, Connor was surprised he’d managed to get up long enough last night to eat stew with them. “It’s too risky hunting when it isn’t allowed,” said Wensel. “I won’t let anything happen to any of you.” He sat down in his chair, sniffing the aroma that filled the air from the apple pie. “Damn, that smells just like the pie that your mother used to love,” he told his children. “The cook at the castle would make it especially for her.”

“It’s not the same,” said Connor. “I didn’t have currants or honey to sweeten it, but the apples themselves weren’t that tart. I used some dried mint we harvested last fall to give it extra flavor.”

“It’s delicious, Father,” said Alaric, talking with his mouth full. “Try some.”

“Yes, Father. There is plenty for all of us,” said Ginevra, pushing the plate over to him.

“Nay,” said their father with a shake of his head. “You eat it, sweetheart.”

“Connor has more cooking. I’ll wait,” offered the girl, her eyes fastened to the pastry.

“There is enough for all of us. I made sure of that,” said Connor, removing a pan with more from the fire, uncovering the shallow clay pot and placing it on the table. “There are even enough apples left to last us the rest of the week if we use them sparingly.”

“So, Connor. You never told me where you got the meat scraps as well as the apples,” said Wensel in a deep voice. “I hope to hell you didn’t have to beg for the food. I don’t want my children ever having to beg.”

“Nay, Father,” said Connor, knowing his answer would upset the man, but also realizing he had to tell him. “It was a gift. From… from Eleanor.”

His father’s head snapped upward and his brows dipped. “Eleanor Blackmore?” he asked. “The girl you were once supposed to marry?”

“Yes, that’s her,” said Connor. “I saw her at the hanging and then again later on the road.”

“Why are you even talking to the girl? It’s over between you, Connor. Over. Do you hear me? We don’t need anything from the Blackmore family. Leave them alone.” His father jumped up so quickly that he lost his balance and started to fall. Connor was near him and rushed over to catch him.

“Sit down before you fall over,” Connor told him, as his father started to have a coughing spell. “You need to regain your strength.”

“His face is red,” Ginevra pointed out.

Connor at first thought his father’s face was flush from all the whisky he’d been drinking. But when he touched his father’s forehead, his skin felt like it was on fire.

“You’re burning up with fever,” said Connor. “And your body is shaking like a leaf. You need to get back to bed immediately.”

“I can’t. I have work to do,” Wensel protested.

“What work, Father?” asked Leoric. “Do you have to do another execution?”

“Nay,” Connor answered for him. “There are no more executions planned for now. Not that I know of.”

“I have to take care of my family,” said Wensel, his eyes starting to drift closed.

“Leoric, take Father back to bed,” Connor commanded, trading places with his brother and rushing to the hook on the wall for his cloak.

“Are you going somewhere, Connor?” asked Ginevra.

“Are you getting more apples?” asked Alaric, eyeing up the rest of the pie.

“Nay, I’m going to find a healer or some medicine to help Father,” Connor answered.