Page 16 of No Place in Time

He gave a short laugh. “The whole county is headed to Faversham. Trying to sell to the king’s army before they just take what they want for the war.”

Cecily’s brow creased. “With the French? Again?”

The man stared at her for a moment, then laughed outright. “French? No, girl. Scotland.”

She saw Finn stiffen beside her.

“King’s men everywhere,” the man went on easily. “Takin’ carts. Takin’ grain. Takin’ lads who can hold a spear. Not a fine time to be walkin’.”

Cecily hesitated, then said, “We were hoping to purchase a small cart.”

Finn’s head snapped toward her.

The man’s eyes flicked between them. He smiled, thoughtful but not unkind. “Well. That depends on what ye’re payin’.”

“We’ll manage on foot,” Finn said, tugging at Cecily’s sleeve.

But Cecily shook him off. “We can’t,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

Finn said nothing. He looked at the horse. The wagon. The road. Then he stepped back. “Very well.”

The man clucked his tongue and brought his wagon to a stop. “Up ye go, then. I’ll take ye as far as Faversham.”

As Cecily climbed up, the wagon jolted slightly. The man reached out to steady her, his arm jostling against her.

“Careful,” he said easily.

She murmured her thanks and settled on the board, with Finn behind. The man started forward again, humming as if nothing had happened.

The man talked as they went, of shortages, of burned farms farther north, of markets crowded with soldiers. Then he began to sing, tapping his heel against the wagon board as he sang.

“Over the hill and down again, oats for the horse and bread for the men.”

He sang it twice, the same two lines, unhurried and off-key.

Cecily smiled. When he came to the second line again, she joined in softly, her voice unsure at first, then steadier.

Finn said nothing. He watched the road.

At the edge of town, the man drew the cart to a halt. “Best I leave ye here,” he said. “King’s men are thick today.”

“Thank you,” Cecily said. “May I pay you for the ride?”

“No, no,” he said with a laugh. “Just doin’ a neighborly thing for two tired folk.”

He tipped his cap, swung back onto the seat, and rode off quickly, the tune picking up again as he went.

When he was out of sight, Cecily reached for her purse. Her fingers closed on nothing. She checked again, panic rising.

“Finn,” she whispered.

He was already looking at her face.

“My money—”

“All of it?” Finn said.

She swallowed. “The entire purse.”