had taken
turns visiting the outhouse they sat with him, and a few minutes later Alice brought
out several heavy clay bowls filled with warm porridge.
“Thank you,” said Tyrion quietly, the
words awkward from long disuse.
They ate in silence.
When they had finished Tyrion glanced
around the table, “I need to know their names.”
Alice, Tom, and Kate shared several
glances between them, but none of them spoke. An awkward pause grew until at
last Kate took up the challenge, “We aren’t entirely sure which ones are
yours. Some may not be yours, even if…”
“…Even if they are the right age?” he
finished for her. “I’ll list the women for you. You tell me which ones have
children the same age as Brigid and Thaddeus. Fiona Brown, Emily Banks,
Jennifer Wilson, Greta Baker, Rachel Moore, Wilma Carter, Sally Phillips,
Peggy…,” he stopped for a moment. “What was her last name?”
“Do you mean Mrs. Morris?” asked Alice.
“I think that’s her,” he affirmed.
“Let me get some paper,” she suggested.
Rising she found one of the old ledgers and returned with it and a small bottle
of ink. It took her a moment to prepare the pen, but a few minutes later she
was penning the names he had given in the margin of one of the pages.
“Laura Collins, Mrs. Price—I don’t
remember her first name…,” he admitted.
“Selma,” provided Kate.
He nodded, “Greta Baker…”
“You said that one already,” said Alice.
He continued until he ran out of names and
had begun to repeat himself.
“What about Laura Collins?” suggested
Kate, “She has a son the right age.”
“I forgot her,” he agreed.
“Vicky Jenkins?” added Alice. “Her
daughter Piper is fifteen now as well.”
Tyrion nodded, the name jogged another
memory, “Darla Long too, she lived next door to Vicky.”
“Did you just go door to door?” asked Kate
in a tone of disgust, daylight and his calm mood had erased much of her earlier
anxiety.
He ignored the question, and after Alice
finished her tally they had a list of names that was longer than he had
expected. He had lain with twenty-seven women and there were sixteen children who
showed every likelihood of being his bastards. With Haley already taken, and
Brigid and Tad being there with them, there were thirteen others whom he needed
to collect before returning.
Tyrion stood, he had been thinking while
they discussed his transgressions, “I’ll be back soon. Gather the children
here while I am gone. I want them here before noon.”
Tom finally found his voice, “You expect
us to be your accomplices?”
He returned the older man’s angry stare
with a face devoid of expression, “The other wardens are already moving. They
weren’t far behind. They will probably be here by nightfall. You will have my
offspring here for me before then, otherwise I will resort to more drastic
means to make certain that they don’t fall into the hands of the other groves.”
Tom Hayes ground his teeth, flinching
under the younger man’s wilting gaze, but apparently he had found his spine once
more. Refusing to give up he continued, “Drastic means? I don’t believe it.
I watched you grow up, Daniel Tennick. You might be sick enough to threaten
us, but I don’t believe for a second that you’d hurt your own children.”
“Really?” said Tyrion, his eyes falling on
Tad Hayes. “Stretch your arm out on the table, boy,” he commanded.
Tad stared up at him, his lip beginning to
tremble, but he didn’t move.
“Wait!” shouted Alice. “We’ll do as you say.
Please, don’t hurt him.”
Tyrion relented, “Fine.” Moving for the
door, he addressed Tom once more, “I know what you’re thinking, Tom, and if you
run it will be worse. You’d best hope that I’m the one who finds you first
then. You don’t want to know what they’ll do with your son.”
He left, closing the door behind him and
walked behind the building, taking the most direct path out of Colne
turns visiting the outhouse they sat with him, and a few minutes later Alice brought
out several heavy clay bowls filled with warm porridge.
“Thank you,” said Tyrion quietly, the
words awkward from long disuse.
They ate in silence.
When they had finished Tyrion glanced
around the table, “I need to know their names.”
Alice, Tom, and Kate shared several
glances between them, but none of them spoke. An awkward pause grew until at
last Kate took up the challenge, “We aren’t entirely sure which ones are
yours. Some may not be yours, even if…”
“…Even if they are the right age?” he
finished for her. “I’ll list the women for you. You tell me which ones have
children the same age as Brigid and Thaddeus. Fiona Brown, Emily Banks,
Jennifer Wilson, Greta Baker, Rachel Moore, Wilma Carter, Sally Phillips,
Peggy…,” he stopped for a moment. “What was her last name?”
“Do you mean Mrs. Morris?” asked Alice.
“I think that’s her,” he affirmed.
“Let me get some paper,” she suggested.
Rising she found one of the old ledgers and returned with it and a small bottle
of ink. It took her a moment to prepare the pen, but a few minutes later she
was penning the names he had given in the margin of one of the pages.
“Laura Collins, Mrs. Price—I don’t
remember her first name…,” he admitted.
“Selma,” provided Kate.
He nodded, “Greta Baker…”
“You said that one already,” said Alice.
He continued until he ran out of names and
had begun to repeat himself.
“What about Laura Collins?” suggested
Kate, “She has a son the right age.”
“I forgot her,” he agreed.
“Vicky Jenkins?” added Alice. “Her
daughter Piper is fifteen now as well.”
Tyrion nodded, the name jogged another
memory, “Darla Long too, she lived next door to Vicky.”
“Did you just go door to door?” asked Kate
in a tone of disgust, daylight and his calm mood had erased much of her earlier
anxiety.
He ignored the question, and after Alice
finished her tally they had a list of names that was longer than he had
expected. He had lain with twenty-seven women and there were sixteen children who
showed every likelihood of being his bastards. With Haley already taken, and
Brigid and Tad being there with them, there were thirteen others whom he needed
to collect before returning.
Tyrion stood, he had been thinking while
they discussed his transgressions, “I’ll be back soon. Gather the children
here while I am gone. I want them here before noon.”
Tom finally found his voice, “You expect
us to be your accomplices?”
He returned the older man’s angry stare
with a face devoid of expression, “The other wardens are already moving. They
weren’t far behind. They will probably be here by nightfall. You will have my
offspring here for me before then, otherwise I will resort to more drastic
means to make certain that they don’t fall into the hands of the other groves.”
Tom Hayes ground his teeth, flinching
under the younger man’s wilting gaze, but apparently he had found his spine once
more. Refusing to give up he continued, “Drastic means? I don’t believe it.
I watched you grow up, Daniel Tennick. You might be sick enough to threaten
us, but I don’t believe for a second that you’d hurt your own children.”
“Really?” said Tyrion, his eyes falling on
Tad Hayes. “Stretch your arm out on the table, boy,” he commanded.
Tad stared up at him, his lip beginning to
tremble, but he didn’t move.
“Wait!” shouted Alice. “We’ll do as you say.
Please, don’t hurt him.”
Tyrion relented, “Fine.” Moving for the
door, he addressed Tom once more, “I know what you’re thinking, Tom, and if you
run it will be worse. You’d best hope that I’m the one who finds you first
then. You don’t want to know what they’ll do with your son.”
He left, closing the door behind him and
walked behind the building, taking the most direct path out of Colne
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