The Lion and the Lark by Malek Doreen Owens

Author:Malek, Doreen Owens [Malek, Doreen Owens]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Doreen Owens Malek
Published: 2011-07-16T18:30:00+00:00

Claudius listened carefully, but he heard nothing. Bronwen and Maeve had left him alone, unusual in itself, and he planned to take advantage of his solitude to take a walk. He had not been on his feet since the night he was attacked, and he could feel his leg muscles turning to eel jelly. He threw off his lap robe and stood gingerly, closing his eyes as the room spun around him. When it steadied he let go of the chair and took a tentative step, his calves protesting mightily. He took another, then another, and he was walking around the room determinedly when the door opened and Bronwen stopped short on the threshold.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m walking,” he said shortly. “And don’t try to stop me or I’ll thrash you.”

Bronwen sighed and watched him pace past her. He finally stopped and looked out the window.

“I want to go outside,” he said.

“Claudius, the snow is as high as my waist out there...”

“Just to the portico. The servants have already cleared that, haven’t they?”

Bronwen was silent.

He turned to look at her. “Well?”

“Claudius, this is not a good idea,” Bronwen said slowly, as if speaking to someone with arrested mental development.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he replied, pulling his uniform cloak over the tunic and trousers he wore.

“Of course I’m going to come with you,” she snapped. “Do you think I’d take a chance on you falling?”

He was moving past the chair on which his cloak lad lain when he saw the courier pouch which had been hidden beneath it.

“How long has that been there?” he asked Bronwen sharply, pointing at it.

She shrugged, affecting an air of indifference. “I don’t know. Since you were hurt, I guess.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then said, “Let’s go.”

“Just let me get my wrap,” she said, slipping into the hall and to the room next door, where she had slept since Claudius’ illness. Her heart was pounding as she put on her boots and donned the hooded, ankle length cloak the Iceni had adopted from the Gauls.

Had Claudius forgotten the pouch until he saw it just now, or did he know something? His impassive expression had given her no information at all, so she returned to him, trying to put the incident out of her mind for the moment.

“Ready?” he said.

She gave him her arm and he stared at it.

“I’m not blind,” he said shortly.

Bronwen withdrew her arm and they walked, slowly, through the hall to the back of the house and out onto the covered porch, the timber roof of which sagged beneath its load of snow. Claudius inhaled deeply as Bronwen closed the double doors behind them.

“Fresh air,” he said with satisfaction. “It seems such a long time since I smelled it.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Bronwen asked, indicating the stone bench with its carved images of Ferrina and Anna Perenna, the Roman agricultural goddesses.

“I want to stand up,” he replied, looking across the open space to the small stable behind the house.

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