Chapter Four
Ivy lit fresh rushlights and added more wood to the fire. Hugh sat silently on the floor while she warmed some pottage. His expression was closed, hiding his thoughts as the blanket hid his nudity. When the pottage was hot, Ivy ladled it into a bowl. Peas and oats, bacon and herbs. “Here,” she said, placing it on the table.
Hugh climbed to his feet, staggered, and almost fell.
“Hugh!” Ivy said, reaching for her crutch.
“I’m fine,” he said, in a hoarse voice. “Just need to get my balance.”
He stood for a moment, swaying, and then walked to the table, each step almost a lurch.
“How long were you a roebuck?” Ivy asked, as he sat carefully. He looked like a drunk man, his movements cautious and over-large.
“I don’t know,” Hugh said, not looking at her. “I don’t remember.”
