Free My Lady Faye by Sarah Hegger

hers. When would she get that into her dull head?
    Gregory finished his prayer, took her elbow and led her through the crowd. People shifted to make way and they found a quiet spot near the wall beside an open window. Fresh air provided a brief reprieve from the heat and the oily tang of goat meat.
    She sank to the ground beside him relieved to be below the heavy cloud of taper smoke hanging above their heads.
    “Are you well?” Gregory stretched his legs out.
    Faye didn’t want to risk tripping someone and kept her knees tight to her chest, her robes tucked beneath her toes. “Aye.”
    “I brought our food.” His shoulder pressed against her as he rummaged in his sack.
    “Is there enough?” The meat pie he held was only enough for one large man. Faye didn’t fancy the pungent goat the inn offered.
    “Oh, dear Lord, Father.” On the bench nearest them a plump man turned and pointed to the pie. “You cannot starve a growing lad. That tidy little morsel will barely fill your belly. Great big man like you.” He clicked his tongue and turned back to his table. “Mother, here, give us some of that nut loaf of yours for the good father and his boy.”
    The farmwife rose from the other side of the table. “Aye, indeed, Heart. And I have a peach tart to sweeten their journey.” She beamed at Faye, her apple cheeks pink and shiny. “Oh, and look at the lad, Heart. Such a sweet-faced young thing.”
    Gregory shifted beside her.
    The entire family looked at her and Faye reminded herself to act like a boy postulant traveling with a monk. She smiled and waggled her fingers.
    A curvaceous young girl, a younger version of the woman, returned her smile with a wink. The brazen little strumpet.
    Gregory would swallow his tongue if Faye winked at him like that. She ducked her head and hid her grin, her mind flooded with winking ladies and gaping knights.
    “And so young.” The woman bustled over and frowned into her face. “You are taking them into the monastery with their mother’s milk still wet on their lips, Father. Such a shame. Why his mother must miss his pretty face every day of her life.” The woman cupped Faye’s face in plump, rough hands. “And his cheeks are still soft and smooth as a babe.”
    Oh, Good Lord. If her face grew any hotter it would explode. People did not cup the Lady Faye’s chin. Most of them would hesitate to touch her mantle. Faye lifted her chin out of the woman’s grasp. All the attention hung like a lead weight on her. She needed to do something fast.
    “Step away from him, my good woman.” Gregory pressed the woman’s hand away. “His pretty face hides the soul of a very devil.”
    The woman jerked her hands back and clutched them to her bosom. “Nay.”
    “Aye.” Gregory nodded. “His mother brought him to St. Margaret’s herself. Three days she walked to bring him to us.”
    “What did he do?” The farmwife gaped and stepped away from Faye.
    Faye dearly wanted to hear the answer to that question, too. She bowed her head penitently.
    “I would not soil your ears with his misdeeds,” Gregory said.
    The woman’s shoulders sagged and she sighed.
    “Should we feed him?” The husband peered around his wife at Faye.
    Faye’s stomach clenched in objection as the nut loaf hovered out of her grasp.
    “We are all God’s creatures.” Gregory clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Our Good Lord broke bread with saints and sinners alike.”
    “Aye, Father.” The woman did not sound sure.
    Faye would smack him if he talked their way out of that loaf. The smell of fresh baking and nuts tormented her tongue.
    “Mother, feed the young knave.” The husband clapped his hands together. “The good priest looks to be just the man to have him well in hand.”
    Skirting Faye, the woman handed the bread to Gregory. She added her peach tart and a large round of cheese. Her feet pattered beneath her skirt back to the table.
    Faye pressed her lips together to stop her smile. “What were my