The Priory Du Sang
Thomas Johnson strained at the harness around his horse’s head, desperately trying to encourage the animal to move forward, but the stubborn mount resisted, neighing with displeasure as Thomas fought for all he was worth.
“Come on old girl,” he shouted through gritted teeth, “just a little bit further and we can stop.”
The rain continued to hammer down as it had been doing now for many hours.
Thomas’s clothes were soaked through to the skin, and his wavy fair hair clung to the sides of his face as if it had been painted on.
Inside the cart, Thomas could hear Sarah crying out again.
It was obvious to him that the baby was not going to wait until they reached their destination. He would have to find somewhere to stop for the night at least, and preferably an inn or a
