The black rider thought the old man would ask about the child. He did not. And with each passing moment, what had not been discussed became more awkward. If he was taking the girl to see the prince, she could not be his wife. From whence did the child come then? The prince would only want virgins. “The child isn’t hers,” the black rider said at last. “The mother died and the girl is taking care of it.” The atmosphere cooled, so he went on. “I am trying to decide what to do with it. It would not do for the prince’s men to see her with the child.”
“We cannot take the child,” said the old man. He left the pack mule some hay and swung the stall door shut. “Geneeva and I are too old to care for a child like we once did.”
“I was not going to ask,” said the black rider, but the thought had occurred to him.
The old man chuckled. “The dialect you’ve picked up is the girl’s, I imagine?”
The black rider rolled his eyes and led the way out of the stables.
[All rights reserved]
To Be Continued....
To Be Continued....
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