‘Can’t you – surely you needn’t be so cruel?’ An appeal to Gabriel’s charity that he knew was a mistake even as he spoke the words.

Gabriel glowered. ‘What do you know? You, with all this?’ He waved his free hand around the room. ‘And you, with your husband warming your bed every night? What do you know about me?’ He rose from his chair, at last releasing the spider and allowing its hobbling escape. ‘Mam sickens, though I do all I can to care for her. And they, down there –’ he waved a hand at the doorway ‘– they’s all saying I’m a thief, things gone missing each night and Sam Finch saying he’s had clothes stole and I see the way they’re looking at me, and that new magistrate will have any thief dangling from the Hanging Tree. I hear the whispers but if there’s thieving happening it’s not me, and if they’s planning on telling the magistrate I’ll let another take the blame, like you said to, I’ll gather a horde and we’ll—’

‘Enough, Gabriel,’ Father said.

Daniel clenched a fist and bit down on his tongue to prevent himself raging at Gabriel and his stupidity, or Father for sowing this bitter seed in Gabriel’s mind.

‘There’s no one here calling you a thief or anything else besides. Is there?’ Father asked. He looked around at Daniel and Bett, who both shook their heads. A bully and a brute Daniel knew him to be, but not a thief. He must leave, before anger took hold.

‘There,’ Father said. ‘See?’

Gabriel took his seat again, staring at the table and flicking crumbs on to the floor.

‘I’ll be off, then,’ Daniel said. The only response came from Bett, catching his eye and giving a small nod. He stepped out into the warmth, the sound of the blackbird and scent of new grass. Soothed by the promise of what was to come. He broke into a run, changing path as he spied the parson loitering once again by the sheep field, waiting for him no doubt. He had not time for such blusterings today.

Blur and Shiver

It is another world. A world of enchantments and delights that souls such as mine were never meant to discover. Crowds of people as I’ve never dreamed. Children running, laughing, fingers and faces sticky with remnants of sweet treats. I walk among them, waiting for someone to see past these clothes, to point and taunt, to throw a stone.

Scents of ale and cooking meat mingle with those of so many bodies close together on a hot day. The air rings with the shouts of those selling their skills: girls carrying mops or pails, boys with crooks or a wisp of straw.