Barbara Erskine - The Warrior’s Princess

The luminous dial on her bedside clock told her it was just after three. Switching on the light she stared down at her pillows for several seconds before turning her back on them and heading for the stairs.

In the kitchen she switched on the kettle, then she went to the door and unlocked it. Pulling it open almost defiantly she stood looking out into the courtyard. The night was balmy; a gentle breeze touched her face. It was very quiet. Even the trees were motionless. Still barefoot she stepped outside and glanced up. The sky was bright with a myriad stars. She caught her breath. One could never see the night sky in London properly. This was spectacular and she was not going to lock herself inside, frightened by a dream. She had vowed not to be a victim. She was not going to be terrorised by a ghost any more than she was going to be terrorised by the man who had raped her. To walk to the gate was the first proof that she was succeeding. The flags were warm under her feet as she walked away from the open door.

‘Eigon?’ She whispered the name out loud. ‘Eigon? Glads? Are you there?’ Her voice was louder this time. With a shriek of alarm a blackbird flew out of the bush by the gate and disappeared into the darkness. Her heart hammering, she stopped. It was only a bird. Nothing to be afraid of. In fact, if there had been anyone there lurking in the shadows the bird would have long gone. She forced herself to walk on. Two more steps. Then one. She put out her hands to the gate and grasped the top rail. ‘Eigon?’

She could just make out the line of the track outside the gate. In one direction it led towards the wood, in the other back down between high banks which eventually followed the contour of the hillside to the road in the valley bottom. Faraway in the distance she could make out two or three lights which showed a village tucked away in a fold of the hills. Nearer to her, to the east, the silhouette of the hillside blocked out the stars. She studied it. How strange that she had not realised it at once. That was the site of the fort in her dream. The fort which she had seen in flames as the women and children fled the vengeful Roman force. She could see the distinctive tiered shape of its summit now, outlined against the blazing heavens.

‘Eigon?’ she called out one last time. There was no reply and turning her back on the trees she retraced her steps towards the house. Inside she closed the door and bolted it. Only then did she acknowledge just how frightened she had been.

5

‘Hi Steph, how are you?’

Steph answered her mobile as she walked out of the palazzo next morning on her way to buy some food for Kim’s dinner party that evening. Kim was already entrenched in the kitchen, and last-minute guests had meant last-minute supplies.

‘Who is that?’ Pausing, Steph turned, pulling her dark glasses down over her eyes. The heat was like a furnace, reflecting off the pavements of the piazza, the traffic roaring noisily round the corner past her. Behind her the palazzo was a classic elegant Renaissance building, the faded terracotta façade peeling now and in places cracked and crumbling, the formal, perfectly symmetrical windows topped by swags and curls of exquisite stone carving. At the centre the huge old door was studded and barred in iron, a small pass door almost invisible in the ancient wood. Kim’s husband, Stefano, had been born and brought up in the huge high-ceilinged shabby apartment in this ancient palazzo, an apartment bought by his father specifically so his family could be a part of this Bohemian artistic quarter of the city.

Turning to face it she stared up at the walls as the voice spoke in her ear. ‘It’s Will, Steph. Please, don’t hang up. I need to talk to you.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Why?’ She began walking again, her hand tightening on the phone as she turned into a narrow alleyway. It was quieter here and she could hear him more easily.

‘I’ve been trying to contact Jess. You know she’s left school? She resigned without giving anyone a reason. She’s not answering her mobile and I’m pretty sure she’s not at the flat any more. I’m worried about her.’

‘What makes you think I would know where she was?’ Steph turned into the Via dei Capellari. She was heading towards the market in the Campo de’ Fiori.

‘That’s a stupid question. Of course you’d know. You two always tell each other everything. Is she there with you?’

‘No, she isn’t. I’m in Rome, Will. I don’t know where she is.’ She stopped again, staring sightlessly into the window of a small picture framer. It was cooler in the shade of this long narrow street. Near her two men had brought their chairs outside, slotting them between two huge terracotta pots of camellias. They were sipping iced beer, drops of condensation running down between their fingers and dripping onto their T-shirts. ‘Dan said he thought she might have come to stay with you.’ Will sighed. ‘Oh well. Do you at least know why she resigned?’

‘No.’ Steph began to walk on slowly. She had always liked Will, been sad when he and Jess split up, but if Jess was not telling anyone where she was, there had to be a reason. ‘Will, there’s no point in asking me. If Jess wants you to know where she is, she would tell you. I haven’t seen her for ages.’ That at least was true. ‘I’m here for the summer, so I don’t expect to either.’

There was a long silence. ‘Do you think she’s gone to stay with your mother in France?’ He sounded crestfallen.

Steph shrugged. She wasn’t sure if Jess had told Aurelia where she was; and she wasn’t sure her mother would keep it a secret if she had. Aurelia too had been one of Will’s greatest fans. ‘Will, are you there? I don’t think she’s in France,’ she said firmly. ‘Mummy would have said. I spoke to her only a day or so ago and she was just leaving for a trip to India.’ She crossed her fingers. Another lie, but only a small one. Aurelia had in fact just returned. As she tucked her mobile back into her bag she frowned. Why was Jess being so secretive? Something was going on. She would ring her tonight and find out exactly what it was

Dan phoned Ty Bran as Jess was eating a bowl of cereal. ‘I’m in Hay. I wondered if you would like to drive over and join me for lunch.’

She rescued the slice of toast that had leaped from the toaster, juggling it with her bowl of muesli. The door was wide open and the blackbird had forgiven her enough for her nocturnal intrusion on its sleeping place to sit on the top of the studio roof, singing gloriously into the sunshine. Her depression had gone; the peace of this place was working its magic at last. After the noise and dirt of London it was balm to her soul.

‘You’re in Hay?’ She frowned. ‘What are you doing there?’

‘Shopping for books. What else?’

‘But you never told me you were coming over this side of the country.’

‘Didn’t I?’ He laughed.

‘No, you didn’t. Are Natalie and the kids with you?’

‘Not this time. Bookshops bore them, sadly. I’m on my way to join them in Shropshire in a couple of days. They’ve gone up to stay with Nat’s parents. Oh come on, Jess. It wouldn’t take you much more than an hour to get here.’

Jess glanced over her shoulder at the open door. She was, she realised, already surprisingly reluctant to leave this peaceful place in spite of its uneasy echoes. On the other hand she needed to do some shopping and perhaps a change of scene would do no harm.

They met in the bar at The Kilvert at twelve thirty. There were no outside tables left by the time she got there so they settled for a table inside by the window.