“We’ll figure something out,” he says, only this time, he doesn’t sound as hopeful as he did before. The paintings and the silverware are gone. Father is carrying a thin velvet bag that jingles as he moves.
“How much gold did you get?” I ask, nodding toward the bag.
He shakes his head. “Silver,” is all he says, and he sets it down on the wooden table in the center of the room. We sit to a supper of warm stew and stale bread, but eat in silence. We’re both so completely wrapped up in our own thoughts that we don’t hear the horses approaching the house until the riders are coming up to the door.
“Eve!” My father says my name in a hushed whisper. “Quick! To your room!”
“Papa,” I protest lightly, but I know it’s no use. They’ve come for him and there’s no stopping whatever happens now. He motions for me to go hide, so I go into the adjacent bedroom and close the door. Then I crawl under the bed.
Papa showed me long ago where he wanted me to hide if anything bad happened. This isn’t a particularly good hiding place. I think if someone wants to find me, it won’t be difficult, but it’s the only place I have.
The area beneath the bed is dusty. I should have kept this area clean, I realize, but it’s too late for that now. My dress will be dirty and soiled when I come out, but that doesn’t matter.
All that matters is my father.
I hear him open the door.
“Gentlemen,” he says politely. “What can I do for you?”
Even with the bedroom door closed, it’s not difficult to hear what they’re saying. The hardwood floors make every sound echo, make every footstep exaggerated.
“You know why we’re here,” a deep voice says.
“I don’t have your m-m-money,” my father starts to stutter, and suddenly, the room seems so much colder.
He’s scared.
Papa is scared.
My father is never scared, never afraid. Nothing makes him worry. Nothing upsets him. He certainly never becomes unnerved to the point of stuttering, but that’s happening now.
“That’s unfortunate,” the voice says. “I suppose I’ll have to take my payment in other ways.” I listen carefully. There are at least three men, I think. The one talking must be Farwol. He said my money: not our money. That makes me think he’s the one in charge, the one leading this group of thugs.
That’s what they are, I think with an angry frown. They’re thugs. They’re bandits. They’re worthless pieces of shit who have no business coming in here.
And I won’t let them touch my father.
I should go out there and reason with them. Maybe if I explain everything, they’ll be understanding. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.
Only, before I can move to wiggle out of my spot, I hear footsteps approaching the door, and I pause.
“Anything,” my father says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Farwol pauses for a moment. His men say something I can’t quite hear. Maybe he’ll be reasonable. Maybe he’ll be normal. Maybe he won’t be the monster everyone says he is. Maybe he won’t be the beast.
But then Farwol says, “I’m terribly sorry about interrupting your supper.” My heart starts to race as I realize what he’s going to say next. “Who was your dining companion? Surely an impoverished man, such as yourself, wouldn’t eat two bowls of stew on your own.”
“I…I…”
“Find her,” Farwol commands, and I hear his men burst into my father’s bedroom. This is it. I’m next. They’re going to find me and take me to him. I scoot back further under the bed. All thoughts of being brave flee as I wonder what’s going to happen to me.
Maybe they won’t look under here.
Maybe they won’t see me.
Maybe…
But then the door to my room opens and they walk inside. I see two pairs of muddy boots enter and move to the center of the bedroom.