13
“Wake up, boy.”
Thomas jolted awake as Celyn’s hand shook his shoulder gently. Their small fire danced nearby, the only light in the sea of darkness all around. After a long day of travel, they had found shelter for the night in the ruins of a Roman way station, its broken-down wall and partial roof providing some relief from the rain.
Godric. Thomas sat up, suddenly afraid that Celyn had let him sleep through the night. “What time is it?”
“Just past midnight, I would say,” Celyn answered with a yawn. “All has been well. But if you see anyone, don’t reveal yourself. Wake me at once. Anyone travelling at night is an outlaw, or worse. Trust no one.”
Thomas nodded, glad for the darkness that hid his face, certain that his plan was written there for the other man to see.
Celyn wrapped
