The Outcasts of Time by Ian Mortimer

Author:Ian Mortimer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2017-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

I am woken by the sound of the barn door opening. An arc of light cuts across my eyes. I look around. Half a dozen cows are eating from a manger, and a bushy-eyebrowed farmer is staring at me. He is wearing a round straw hat and a sleeveless jerkin over his shirt, and brown breeches that start high above his waist and end at the tops of his muddy leather boots.

‘What are you doing in my barn?’

I get to my feet and walk slowly towards the door. I pause, blinking in the light. I feel dizzy. The view spins around me and, unsteady on my feet, I slump to my knees. I reach out and put a hand on the wall.

‘Forgive me,’ I say.

‘Where’ve you come from?’

‘Moreton.’

‘You’re dressed in mighty strange clothes. Even for Moreton.’

‘They’re from my grandfather.’

‘You’re hungry?’

I nod.

‘I’ll not turn away a starving man reduced to wearing his grandaddy’s clothes. Go on inside the house and ask the wench for some breakfast. You’ll find her in the kitchen.’

I nod my thanks, get to my feet and take a step to the barn door. I see thatched farm buildings, fields and trees. Although sunny, it has clearly been raining recently as the barnyard is a quagmire of mud. ‘Where is this place?’

‘This here’s Halstow, in Dunsford parish.’

I look at the house, sunken into the landscape. Even the chimney stack looks old.

‘Through the front door, turn left. She’s called Kitty,’ says the farmer. ‘Go on, she won’t bite you. Long as you don’t lay a finger on her.’

I go to the house: the door is open. Inside is a flagstone-floored passage and a doorway that leads through to a whitewashed kitchen. It is light and airy; the large windows are filled with many small rectangular panes of glass. There is a fire on the hearth burning gently, smoke twisting its way up the chimney. A young woman in a long apron and a bonnet of thin white fabric is busy kneading dough. A wisp of dark hair is loose on one side of her face. I can almost hear William commenting on her pretty features. Thinking about him overwhelms me for a moment, and I cannot say anything.

She looks up at me. ‘And who might you be?’

‘John – from Moreton.’

‘Well, I’m none the wiser for that. What do you want?’

‘Your master said that I might ask you for some breakfast.’

‘That’s a crooked tongue in your mouth. Are you sure you’re from Moreton?’

‘I’ve been travelling for many years.’

She resumes working. ‘He’s a soft-hearted one, is that George Hodges. Always letting strangers sup and stay or break their fast. Next thing, he’ll be having a bell put in so that any passing ragrowsterer can call to be waited on. So, what’ll you be wanting? Bread and butter with sage? Or bread fried in dripping?’

‘I will be more than content with a little bread and butter. Thank you.’

‘Sit yourself down over there by the window. I’ll be seeing to your breakfast just as soon as I get these loaves in the oven.

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