Read Online The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) by Nicola Thorne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicola Thorne
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victim of warring forces as he stared at his mother and sister, his brothers whom he had just dispossessed.
But George Delamain – Sir George Delamain – had trained himself to eschew emotion from an early age. If momentarily he regretted the force of his words he quickly overcame such a sign of weakness and, without glancing backwards, strode purposefully out of the room leaving the great doors open behind him. His heavy footsteps echoed along the stone corridors as his family, still shocked at the abruptness of his words, gazed at each other wondering what the future would bring.
4
Analee felt instantly at home with the warm-hearted troupe of brothers and sister, Selinda, who welcomed her to their ranks. Selinda, who played the tambourine, was the most reserved, as her brother explained to them what had happened as they came back, exhausted from hours of playing. Each carried a large bag of coins which clinked satisfactorily together, indicating that there would be enough to eat for several days to come. Randal spoke hurriedly to them, bidding them pack up and be ready to start before dawn. By the time Analee had rejoined them they were all asleep curled up in the shadows of the cart, all except Randal who advised her to get as much rest as she could.
Now they were on their second day away from the gypsy camp wandering around the countryside near Penrith.
‘There we may bide the winter,’ Randal said, ‘for when the snow and the winds come ‘tis no place to be wandering on the roads.’
‘There is not enough work for us to bide there all winter,’ Hamo the fiddler said, ‘’tis best we go up to Carlisle and stop there.’
Hamo and Randal took turns leading the horse, and the girls walked by their side. Benjamin, the cripple, rode in the cart, entertaining them with his flute. Benjamin was like the runt of the litter compared with his tall strapping brothers – lean, wiry men with jet black hair and dark brown eyes. Selinda resembled her brothers, being dark and slim but of medium height. Her skin was whiter than theirs and there was an air of fragility about her, unusual in one who spent her time on the road. She had none of the sturdy robustness of Analee who swung along, easily keeping up with the men. From time to time they would halt to give Selinda time to rest or travel for a while with Benjamin in the cramped cart.
Benjamin was short, having suffered damage at birth and one of his legs was completely bent at the knee so that he had to hobble on his stick. He had a thin, emaciated frame and his arms and legs looked as though they would snap if any pressure were applied to them. His cheeks were hollow and his hair was sparse, unlike the thick thatches of his brothers, the luxurious raven locks of his sister. But the size and quality of his eyes, their luminosity as they blazed with amusement or affection, made Benjamin’s face almost beautiful. His skin had the transparency of fine porcelain and his mouth betrayed a sweetness of disposition as though he found himself permanently at peace with the world; in love with life.
Thus it was a gay troupe that Analee found she had joined as they walked briskly along chattering and laughing. Yet once on the road they were busy. There were rabbits to snare, hedges to explore for berries and ditches for hedgehogs, the odd fat pigeon to stalk, pounce upon and kill. There were herbs and grasses to gather to flavour their soups – mushrooms, nettles and wild garlic. Occasionally a lone fowl or chicken wandering on the road was seized and its neck wrung before it was plucked and roasted on a stick over a fire, its belly filled with rosemary and garlic.
At nightfall they sought the shelter of a wood or rocks and Randal and Hamo would make a fire while Selinda and Analee cooked whatever they had gathered during the day. Sometimes they had caught a hedgehog and then they made the favourite gypsy dish of hotchi-witchi by wrapping it in leaves and baking it in
But George Delamain – Sir George Delamain – had trained himself to eschew emotion from an early age. If momentarily he regretted the force of his words he quickly overcame such a sign of weakness and, without glancing backwards, strode purposefully out of the room leaving the great doors open behind him. His heavy footsteps echoed along the stone corridors as his family, still shocked at the abruptness of his words, gazed at each other wondering what the future would bring.
4
Analee felt instantly at home with the warm-hearted troupe of brothers and sister, Selinda, who welcomed her to their ranks. Selinda, who played the tambourine, was the most reserved, as her brother explained to them what had happened as they came back, exhausted from hours of playing. Each carried a large bag of coins which clinked satisfactorily together, indicating that there would be enough to eat for several days to come. Randal spoke hurriedly to them, bidding them pack up and be ready to start before dawn. By the time Analee had rejoined them they were all asleep curled up in the shadows of the cart, all except Randal who advised her to get as much rest as she could.
Now they were on their second day away from the gypsy camp wandering around the countryside near Penrith.
‘There we may bide the winter,’ Randal said, ‘for when the snow and the winds come ‘tis no place to be wandering on the roads.’
‘There is not enough work for us to bide there all winter,’ Hamo the fiddler said, ‘’tis best we go up to Carlisle and stop there.’
Hamo and Randal took turns leading the horse, and the girls walked by their side. Benjamin, the cripple, rode in the cart, entertaining them with his flute. Benjamin was like the runt of the litter compared with his tall strapping brothers – lean, wiry men with jet black hair and dark brown eyes. Selinda resembled her brothers, being dark and slim but of medium height. Her skin was whiter than theirs and there was an air of fragility about her, unusual in one who spent her time on the road. She had none of the sturdy robustness of Analee who swung along, easily keeping up with the men. From time to time they would halt to give Selinda time to rest or travel for a while with Benjamin in the cramped cart.
Benjamin was short, having suffered damage at birth and one of his legs was completely bent at the knee so that he had to hobble on his stick. He had a thin, emaciated frame and his arms and legs looked as though they would snap if any pressure were applied to them. His cheeks were hollow and his hair was sparse, unlike the thick thatches of his brothers, the luxurious raven locks of his sister. But the size and quality of his eyes, their luminosity as they blazed with amusement or affection, made Benjamin’s face almost beautiful. His skin had the transparency of fine porcelain and his mouth betrayed a sweetness of disposition as though he found himself permanently at peace with the world; in love with life.
Thus it was a gay troupe that Analee found she had joined as they walked briskly along chattering and laughing. Yet once on the road they were busy. There were rabbits to snare, hedges to explore for berries and ditches for hedgehogs, the odd fat pigeon to stalk, pounce upon and kill. There were herbs and grasses to gather to flavour their soups – mushrooms, nettles and wild garlic. Occasionally a lone fowl or chicken wandering on the road was seized and its neck wrung before it was plucked and roasted on a stick over a fire, its belly filled with rosemary and garlic.
At nightfall they sought the shelter of a wood or rocks and Randal and Hamo would make a fire while Selinda and Analee cooked whatever they had gathered during the day. Sometimes they had caught a hedgehog and then they made the favourite gypsy dish of hotchi-witchi by wrapping it in leaves and baking it in
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