"I know." He shifted his long legs, cramped in the tight space of the cabin, but still managed to keep them well away from mine. He must not want to risk getting too close. "I owe you an explanation after...everything." He shifted his legs again, putting them back where they were to begin with, under the seat we shared, crossed at the ankles.
"You got to the point where Frederick fell and hit his head," I prompted. "What happened next? Did you check to see if he was thoroughly dead?"
"He wasn't dead at all. He got up and ran away."
"Got up! Not dead! Jacob, that's-."
He held up a hand. "Wait, let me finish. I know what you're going to say-that I didn't kill him."
"Well of course!"
"He was unconscious for only a few seconds during which time I tried to waken him. I was in the middle of feeling for a pulse when he opened his eyes. He took one look at me, screamed, then got up and ran off. He seemed disoriented and I went after him to ensure he didn't fall again but he climbed into a carriage that I hadn't noticed waiting further down the street, and sped off before I could catch up.
"For days I worried if he was all right. I also tried to think who he might have been, but I had no luck. Anyway, about a week after that incident, I was walking home again and was attacked once more. This time it was by someone wearing a hooded cloak. Whoever it was caught me off guard, delivering a blow that made me lose my senses. I woke up some time later with a blanket or cloak over my head. I struggled to free myself but my wrists were tied." He lifted both hands to his face and stared at them. "I was hit again as I struggled and it was then that I realized I was inside a carriage and it was traveling fast. I continued to struggle of course and by this time I was asking my companion, or companions, what they wanted. The only answers I received were more blows and again I became unconscious."
"Oh, lord." I sidled up to him and touched his cheek. How could anyone hurt my Jacob?
He took my hand and pulled it gently away and placed it on his thigh. Tears stung my nose and eyes and burned the back of my throat. He did not want my sympathy, or my love.
"The carriage stopped and I was dragged out. We were in the country, I know that much. I could smell earth and grass."