Alys Clare - The Rose of the World

His expression as he turned to look at her had been unreadable, even to her, and it had crossed her mind that he was deliberately keeping her out, shutting away whatever he was thinking so that she did not pick it up.

Then he smiled. Smiling too, happy to see him, glad that she would not have to pursue the trail alone, she said, ‘So you can do it too.’

He replied simply, ‘Yes.’

He told her he had found the spot where Rosamund and the man who had taken her had spent the previous night. ‘At least, I’m pretty sure I have,’ he added. ‘Two people lay there, and there was a fire, although only one horse.’

‘She’s only small,’ Meggie said. ‘She’d have ridden behind him.’

She suggested returning to the camp site so that she, too, could inspect it, but Ninian said there was no need. ‘The trail’s already faint and there’s no point,’ he went on. ‘Anyway, I think I know where he’s taking her.’

She had been so excited at his words that she hadn’t pursued the matter of the camp site. ‘Where?’ she demanded.

He stared at her, his blue eyes brilliant in the soft autumn sunshine. Not our mother’s eyes, she remembered thinking absently, for hers were dark, darker than mine, which are just like Father’s. Ninian, too, must have his father’s eyes.

She did not know for certain who had fathered her half-brother, although she had a pretty good idea.

He said, after teasing her with a pause so long that she had been about to thump him, ‘I believe they’re heading for the Ashdown Forest. They’ve been going west,’ he went on quickly when she opened her mouth to interrupt, ‘and for miles that way there’s little but heathland.’

‘Then what is his destination?’

‘There are hunting lodges out on the forest,’ he said eagerly. ‘They were built for the great lords, so they don’t have to waste valuable hunting time riding to and from whatever grand house they’re staying in. It’s like camping, I suppose,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘only far more comfortable, and I expect there’s a gang of servants to cook the deer the lords have just killed and to warm the beds.’

She hardly heard the last part. ‘Do you know where these hunting lodges are, then?’ she asked.

He grinned. Raising his arm, he pointed. ‘There’s one about five miles ahead.’

They had found it. As soon as they had it in sight, it was obvious that it was inhabited. There were horses tethered outside, and the sounds of human activity could be heard coming from the small yard behind the lodge. Men were hurrying to and fro — the gang of servants, no doubt, Meggie had thought — working to fulfil the orders of an exacting master and make everything ready for his arrival.

There were people within, too; the sound of their voices floated out on the still air.

Was one of them Rosamund?

Meggie, stiff with tension at knowing the child might be so near, wanted to creep up and look, but Ninian grabbed her and threatened to tie her to a tree if she tried. ‘If they see you, they’ll either take you too or have you arrested for trespass,’ he hissed.

‘What do you suggest?’ she hissed back, equally angry.

He loosened his hold on her. ‘We wait,’ he replied. ‘We’ll make camp over there, among the trees — ’ he pointed — ‘and the gorse will hide us well enough. Then we watch and work out who’s in there, what they want with Rosamund and-’

‘And how we’re going to get her back,’ she interrupted.

He smiled at her. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

Careful not to disturb Ninian, Meggie got to her feet and crept over to the edge of the secluded spot where they had made their camp. She could see the lodge quite clearly, for it stood out as a rectangle of denser black in the darkness. Everything was quiet now, and only one small light burned.

Earlier, a group of horsemen had ridden up, the horses lathered and the men loud-voiced and exuberant; the hunting, it seemed, had been good. Meggie and Ninian, watching from their hiding place in the gorse, had counted ten men. Meggie could have sworn that Ninian recognized one of them, but when she asked him, he shook his head.

The sounds of a very good party had floated out to them from the lodge. There was singing and laughter and, at one point just after the hunters had arrived, a furiously angry voice shouting harsh but inaudible words. The men, it appeared, had fallen to arguing even before they’d had time to drink more than a couple of mugs of wine.

Meggie stood in the darkness for some time, concentrating so hard that it made her head ache. She was trying to sense if Rosamund was in the lodge, or whether this long, chilly vigil was a complete waste of time. She did not let herself dwell on that for long. If it was, then Rosamund would be far away now and out of reach, even to two people who had inherited their mother’s strange gifts.

Rosamund had to be there. Surely, it could not be that both Meggie and Ninian were wrong?

She arrested that thought too, replacing it with a positive one. Tomorrow the men would set out again, either to resume the hunt or to return to wherever it was they came from. She and Ninian would be ready and, whoever had Rosamund and wherever they went, the two of them would follow.

It seemed as good a thought as any on which to go to sleep. She returned to her bed, stoked the fire again and lay down. She knew she was meant to wake Ninian so that he could take his turn on watch, but she was all but sure that everyone in the lodge had retired for the night. Nobody would go anywhere until morning, so Ninian might as well sleep too.

She rolled on her side, her back to the fire’s warmth, and very soon fell asleep.

The man felt as if his head had been invaded by other people’s thoughts. They were in there, the voices, inside his skull. They ordered him to do things, and when he got it wrong, they grew angry. Lying in the darkness, he gave a low moan, quickly suppressing it. The others had mocked and laughed at him quite enough for one day, and he would not give them the satisfaction of starting all over again.

He did not understand. It was all so confusing.

It had been late in the day when he and the girl had reached the hunting lodge. He would have gone in earlier, but he dared not do so until his lord arrived. He had taken the girl back to the river, and they had played a game, making a dam out of driftwood across a little stream that wound down the bank to join the main current. She had enjoyed that, and so, he had to admit, had he.

He liked the girl. She was pretty, she was quick-witted and she made him laugh.

Then the self-doubt had returned and the silent questions had started up again. Was he doing the right thing? Ought he to return her to her family? Oh, but he had to go on! The voices told him so. They said it was the only way to get what he so desperately wanted.

He and the girl had been mounted on his horse, waiting on a low rise above the lodge, when his lord finally arrived. The lord was in a good mood, laughing loudly and joking with the men. They all went inside, and the man knew he could wait no longer. He said to the girl, ‘We can go in now!’

She looked at him brightly. ‘Is the party going to be soon?’

‘Yes, yes! Very soon.’

She had paused to fluff up her pretty hair and brush the dust off her cloak. The little gestures had gone straight to his heart. Before emotion could undermine him — remember why you are doing this! — he tightened his hold around her waist and kicked his heels into Star’s sides.

He went first into the lodge, holding her hand and drawing her in after him. Nobody noticed them to begin with. The lord was sitting in a fine leather-seated chair beside the fire, and two of his body servants were pulling off his boots. The boots were caked in mud. More servants had heated wine, and the aroma of spices was heavy on the air. The lord’s men all had mugs in their hands and were drinking greedily. As the man watched from the fringes of the group, the lord reached out a hand and took his own fine silver goblet from the servant who bowed low beside him.