Hadrian ran full tilt at the old farmer and tackled him to the ground. Theron was larger than Hadrian, with powerful arms and hands made strong by years of unending work, but Hadrian was fast and agile. The two grappled in a wrestling match that had them rolling in the dirt grunting as each tried to get the advantage.
“This is so stupid,” Hadrian muttered, getting to his feet. “If you would just get on the horse …”
“You get on the horse. Get out of here and leave me alone!” Theron yelled at them as he struggled to catch his breath, standing bent over, hands resting on his knees.
“Maybe you can help me this time?” Hadrian said to Royce.
Royce rolled his eyes and dismounted. “I didn’t expect you’d have so much trouble.”
“It’s not easy to subdue a person bigger than you and not hurt him in the process.”
“Well, I think I found your problem, then. Why don’t we try hurting him?”
When they turned back to face Theron, the farmer had a good-size stick in his hand and a determined look in his eyes.
Hadrian sighed, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
“Daddy!” Thrace shouted, running into the ring of firelight, her face streaked with tears. “Daddy,” she cried again, and reaching the old man, threw her arms around him.
“Thrace, what are you doing here?” Theron yelled. “It’s not safe.”
“I came to get you.”
“I’m staying here.” He pulled his daughter off and pushed her away. “Now you take your hired thugs and get back to the Bothwicks right now. You hear me?”
“No,” Thrace cried at him, her arms raised, still reaching. “I won’t leave you.”
“Thrace,” he bellowed, his huge frame towering over her, “I am your father and you’ll do as I say!”
“No!” she shouted back at him, the firelight shining on her wet cheeks. “I won’t leave you to die. You can whip me if you want, but you’ll have to come back to the castle to do it.”
“You stupid little fool,” he cursed. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Don’t you know that?”
“I don’t care!” Her voice ran shrill, her hands crushed into fists, arms punched down at her sides. “What reason do I have to live if my own father—the only person I have left in the world—hates me so much he would rather die than look at me?”
Theron stood stunned.
“At first,” she began in a quavering voice, “I thought you wanted to make sure no one else was killed, and then I thought maybe it was—I don’t know—to put their souls to rest. Then I thought you wanted revenge. Maybe the hate was eating you up. Maybe you had to see it killed. But none of that’s true. You just want to die. You hate yourself—you hate me. There’s nothing in this world for you anymore, nothing you care about.”
“I don’t hate you,” Theron said.
“You do. You do because it was my fault. I know what they meant to you—and I wake up every morning with that.” She wiped the tears enough to see. “If it was me, it would have been just like it was with Mom—you would have driven a stick into Stony Hill with my name on it and the next day gone back to work. You would have driven the plow and thanked Maribor for his kindness in sparing your son. I should have been the one to die, but I can’t change what happened and your death won’t bring him back. Nothing will. Still, if all I can do now—if all that’s left for me—is to die here with you, then that’s what I’ll do. I won’t leave you, Daddy. I can’t. I just can’t.” She fell to her knees, exhausted, and in a fragile voice said, “We’ll all be together again, at least.”
Then, as if in response to her words, the wood around them went silent once more. This time the crickets and frogs stopped so abruptly the silence seemed suddenly loud.
“No,” Theron said, shaking his head. He looked up at the night sky. “No!”
The farmer grabbed his daughter and lifted her up. “We’re going.” He turned. “Help us.”
Hadrian pulled Millie around. “Up, both of you.” Millie stomped her hooves and started to pull and twist, nostrils flaring, ears twitching. Hadrian gripped her by the bit and held tight.
Theron mounted the horse and pulled Thrace up in front of him, then, with a swift kick, he sent Millie racing up the trail back toward the village. Royce leapt on the back of Mouse and, throwing out a hand, swung Hadrian up behind him even as he sent the horse galloping into the night.
The horses needed no urging as they ran full out with the sweat of fear dampening their coats. Their hooves thundered, pounding the earth like violent drumbeats. The path ahead was only slightly lighter than the rest of the wood and for Hadrian it was often a blur as the wind drew tears from his eyes.
“Above us!” Royce shouted. Overhead they heard a rush of movement in the leaves.
The horses made a jarring turn into the thick of the wood. Invisible branches, leaves, and pine boughs slapped them, whipped them, beat them. The animals raced in blind panic. They drove through the underbrush, glancing off tree trunks, bouncing by branches. Hadrian felt Royce duck and mimicked him.