The Lightning Bolt by Kate Forsyth Page B

Cromwell didn’t help him, he did nothing?’ Van leant forward, his eyes wide.
    â€˜No, he did nothing. He let the king die. And then what happened is all the Fen men in his service sent him their goose feathers, all broken and bent, and they left his army and all went back to the Fens, and refused to serve him any more, for he had broken the oath of the Brotherhood. And Father Plummer said Cromwell’s never been the same man since.’
    â€˜He should’ve helped the king,’ Van said with conviction.
    â€˜I think so too,’ Emilia said.
    â€˜But how could he?’ Luka said. ‘He’d fought and fought to bring the king down, how could he just let him go at the very end? And what would have happened to him if he had?’
    â€˜He still should’ve helped him,’ Emilia said. ‘He swore an oath. It was a sacred trust.’
    â€˜I’d like to be in a secret society,’ Van said. ‘I’d like to know all the hidden ways through the marshes, and be able to escape from right under the noses of the soldiers, and have adventures.’ He lifted his left hand and rubbed the ugly stump of his right arm.
    â€˜Maybe you can one day,’ Emilia said consolingly, but she knew that Van had remembered his scars, and the spell they had woven was broken.
    â€˜We are in a secret society,’ Luka said. ‘We’re all Roms. Even though you Smiths have left the roads and settled down like gorgios , it does not mean you’re not still a gypsy at heart. Why, you could go back on the road any time you want.’
    â€˜With this?’ Van held up his ugly stump. ‘How could I? I’m useless now, good for nothing.’
    â€˜That’s not true,’ Fairnette cried, pausing in her task of plucking the chicken.
    â€˜Aye, it is,’ Van said. ‘You know it is, Fairnette.’
    â€˜We can make up our own secret society,’ Emilia cried, wanting to drive away Van’s unhappy look. She seized a chicken feather from the table. ‘Here you go! We can be the secret . . . well, not the secret brotherhood since Fairnette and me are girls, but we could be the secret society , of the white feather!’
    Van could not help laughing, though only briefly.
    â€˜Please, not a chicken feather,’ Fairnette pleaded. ‘Couldn’t we pick something a little more romantic?’
    â€˜Like what?’ Van wanted to know. ‘A crow feather?’
    â€˜No, not a crow!’ Luka was shocked. Gypsiesthought crows were dirty indeed, almost as bad as snakes or cats. His eyes fell on the bunch of red roses on the dresser. ‘How about a rose?’ he suggested. ‘It’s not hard to find roses . . .’
    â€˜Except in winter.’
    â€˜You could use rosehips in winter, or a dried rose . . .’ His voice trailed away.
    â€˜How about a swallow feather, since we’re gypsies and so are swallows,’ Emilia suggested. ‘You could pick one up whenever you saw one, and keep it for the day you needed it.’
    â€˜The Secret Society of the Swallow Feather.’ Luka rolled the words over his tongue. He liked the sound of it.
    â€˜We could call ourselves the Swallows . . .’ Emilia said.
    â€˜. . . and mimic the call of the swallow when we wanted to alert each other with no one knowing.’ And Luka pursed up his lips and gave a fair imitation of a swallow’s whistle.
    â€˜What’s the point even thinking about it?’ Van demanded. He got to his feet, the stump of his arm tucked close to his body. ‘You’ll be going once you’ve got what you want from us, and we’ll never see you again. Much good our secret society will be to us then.’

Cursed Bad Luck

    L uka and Emilia looked at each other unhappily. Both knew he spoke the truth.
    Emilia ran her fingers over the charms at her wrist. Golden crown for luck, silver horse for the beasts of field and forest, rue flower for