Read Online Flight From Blithmore by Jacob Gowans - Free Book Online

points of light back at them like a pot of rich honey.
Brandol had never imagined so much money. Maggie seemed to be thinking the same
thing.
    “Where
we gonna put it?” He lay on the floor waiting for the aching in his back to
subside.
    Maggie
raised an arm, then dropped it again with a sigh. “I don’t know. Let’s leave it
right here. I can’t move right now.”
    Brandol
didn’t like the idea. What if Lord Oslan barged his way into the house? He had
not spent all that time in the mud digging up the gold to see it taken right
back. Plus, the thought of defending the gold from Isabelle’s irate father
terrified him. Before Maggie said anything else, he got up and went into the
kitchen and returned with a stack of large wooden bowls he’d helped Henry carve
for Maggie to display her vegetables at the market.
    “How
‘bout using these?” he offered.
    A
double gold crown was the same circumference as a single crown but twice as
thick. The emblem of the Crown of Blithmore adorned each side, instead of one.
It surprised Brandol how cold they were, but each handful he grabbed brought
with it a new jolt of excitement. He imagined himself as King of Blithmore,
unable to ever spend so much gold.
    Maggie
grinned as she scooped it up in bowls. “It would take me all day to count
this.”
    Brandol
had very little arithmetic skill. For all he knew, the bag contained almost a
million coins. It certainly looked like a million. His mother had once told him
that a million was the largest number, and that God had not created a million
of anything. Maybe she’d been wrong.
    They
hadn’t emptied even half the bag when they heard more shouts from Lord Oslan,
but these new ones came from the woodshop. Brandol got up first and ran across
the house to the side door connecting the house to the shop. He cracked it open
and looked around. He saw nothing unusual except that the shop had been left
open—something Henry didn’t like. He went to close it and heard another cry. Through
the doorway, he saw Lord Oslan dragging Isabelle up the lawn by her hair. His
first impulse was to run after her, but that noble thought was immediately
extinguished by a feeling of impotence.
    When
he returned from the shop, Maggie stood at the window with a look of shock on
her face. “Brandol, you have to do something!”
    “I
can’t do nothing to help.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke. His ears grew
hot. Throughout his life, he’d been called many names: stupid, dunce, pathetic,
useless, even Runt by his own parents, but never “hero.”
    What
did Maggie expect him to do? Chase down Lord Oslan and challenge him to
fisticuffs? He joined her at the window to see Lord Oslan yank his daughter
through the hedge and out of sight.
    “Brandol!”
Maggie yelled. “Get out there now!”
    Brandol
had no choice but try to help. He’d never done anything like this. As a child,
he’d been the one needing help. He ran to Henry’s shop to find something
useful. A slow perusal of the woodshop gave him no ideas. In fact, Brandol
didn’t know if he wanted any ideas because that idea would have to be acted
upon. Biting his lip, he glanced around the shop once more. Isabelle’s spades
lay on the floor near the door. He picked one up and held it awkwardly.
    “Good
as anything,” he muttered to himself.
    His
thoughts were jumbled as he leapt from the porch onto the grass. The spade
shook in his hands. What would he do if he caught Lord Oslan? Threaten him?
Bludgeon him? Brandol didn’t think he could even speak properly in this state.
Any violence he managed to inflict on the nobleman would likely be severely
punished. Isabelle’s cries had long vanished. The rain still came down
steadily, although it wasn’t pouring as heavily as it had been.
    As
he crossed the hedge, the spade caught in the branches and threw off his
balance. He gave the handle a hard tug, and the spade jerked free, but his feet
slipped on the wet grass. He hit the earth, knocking his