It was mid-afternoon before Celyn felt human enough to accompany Thomas to meet the king. They found him at the church, consulting with Father Paulus and Father Colm regarding his brother’s remains.
They waited outside in the spring sun, neither of them wishing to intrude. Celyn winced at the brightness of the light, a sour look on his face.
“Nona’s draught not working?” Thomas asked, unable to resist teasing Celyn.
The other man scowled. “As to that, I’ve had enough of drinking piss water. Why she can’t make her potions more palatable only the good Christ knows.”
Thomas could only briefly wonder what Celyn would have thought of the bitter black coffee his mother preferred as a hangover remedy before the church door opened and Oswy came out.
He stopped short. “Master Thomas!”
Thoma
