And that scared me more than anything else. But I knew nothing about this was normal.
I didn’t know what the procedure was, exactly. All I knew from the pinpricks of torchlight through the canvas was that it was the middle of the night. There I remained for several hours until I was moved once again. Instead, the men threw a hood over my head and carted me to a different jail. I almost welcomed it at least someone there would tell me why I’d been arrested. I’d obviously been accused of some crime, so I expected the men to cart me off to the courthouse. This time, I got a club to the gut for my trouble. I huddled against the back wall, confused and scared, for only a short time before two new men arrived and hauled me out.Īgain I tried to ask what was happening. Dazed, I was carried into the streets, brought to our parish’s jail, and tossed in a cell. Someone cracked me on the head before I could finish. They grabbed my arms and lifted me bodily from the ground. Pettiworth, but the other two were strangers. I’d made it halfway there when a voice cried out. There was a small crowd two doors down, huddled around the crates behind Mr. I needed to replenish some of the ingredients I kept in the apothecary sash I wore hidden around my waist, so I left Tom hunting through the books upstairs while I went down to the workshop to refill the vials.Ī commotion in the alley behind my shop drew me to the door. I’d been at Blackthorn with Tom, searching for the few copies of my master’s journals we hadn’t yet been able to find.
It had happened yesterday, late afternoon-at least I think it was yesterday I’d lost track of time in the jails. But then I didn’t even know why I’d been arrested. This was the third time they’d moved me since I’d been captured. My heart thudded, keeping time with each bang and shudder. I lay in the back, wrists and ankles clamped in chains that jingled with the wagon’s rise and fall. The cart thundered down the road, bumping on the cobblestones, the wood rattling my bones.
I gasped, drawing what air I could through the fabric.
The hood that bound my head was canvas, so my only light was what filtered through the weave.
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