Part 44 (1/2)

I relaxed for what seemed the first time in days. Soon, with the sun already dipping red towards the low hills to the west, we should be snug in some cottage for the night, with perhaps a spoonful or two of stew to warm our bellies.

The driver pulled to a halt, and skipped down to relieve himself. ”Best do the same yourselves,” he said cheerily. ”Last stop before my cousin's. I'll help your brother, la.s.s, and you disappear in them bushes.”

I needed no encouragement: I had been really uncomfortable with the jolting of the cart over the last mile or so. I clambered down and looked about me.

The road was deserted and the land lay flat and featureless, except for a dark ma.s.s of forest a couple of miles or so ahead. The nearest shrubs were a little way off, and as I trotted towards them the ring on my finger started to itch: I must have caught one of Growch's fleas or touched a nettle.

Squatting down in blissful privacy I looked up as a flock of starlings clattered away above my head, bound for roosts in the woods. It was suddenly cold as the sun disappeared: even my b.u.m felt the difference as the night wind stirred the gra.s.ses around me and I stood up hastily and pulled up my drawers.

Suddenly there was a shout from the direction of the roadway, a clatter of hooves, frantic barking and the creak of wheels. Whatever had happened?

Had we been attacked? Had the horse bolted? Had my beloved Gill been abducted? Hurrying as fast as I could, all caution forgotten in my anxiety, I tripped over a root and fell flat on my face. Struggling to rise I was immediately downed again by a hysterical dog.

”C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!”

”What's happened?”

”Come-'n'-see, come-'n'-see, come-'n'-see!” was all I could get out of him.

”I'm coming!” I yelled back at him, skirt torn, face all muddy, shaking like a leaf. ”Get out of the way!”

The first thing I saw as I arrived at the roadside were the long legs of Gill waving from the ditch as he tried frantically to right himself. I rushed forwards and grabbed an arm, a hand, and by dint of pulling and tugging till I was breathless, managed to get him back on his feet again, spluttering and cursing.

”Are you all right?”

”No thanks to that cursed carter! Just wait till I see him again-till I get hold of him,” he amended.

”The carter? Oh, my G.o.d! Where is he?”

”Gone,” said Growch, back to normal, his voice full of gloom. ”Gone and the horse and all our food with 'im. Waited till you went behind those bushes then tipped your fancy-boy into the ditch. Chucked a stone at me and was off down the road like rat up a drain. Got a nip at 'is ankle, though,” he added more cheerfully. ”Now what we goin' to do?”

Chapter Eight.

What, indeed! As for this ”we,” it was down to me really, wasn't it? So, I could cry, scream, yell, kick the dog, run off down the road in vain pursuit. I could refuse to go any further, abandon both my knight and the dog, do my own thing. I could tear my hair out in handfuls, creep away into the wilderness and die; I could become a hermit or take the veil. . . .

I did none of these, of course. Instead I sat down by the roadside and considered, steadily and calmly, the options left to us. I was aware that despair was only just around the corner; I was also aware just how much I had changed. A few days ago, while Mama was still alive, I would have been totally incapable of coping. Then, if even the smallest thing went wrong, my fault or no, I had run to her skirts and asked for forgiveness, aid, advice, whatever; I had been whipped, scolded, but given my course of action. Now I was on my own.

No, not on my own. I had the others to consider. Without me they would probably perish, except perhaps for Growch. Had the unaccustomed responsibility brought this mood of somehow being able to deal with it all? Or had my ”magic” ring wrought the change? It had certainly tried to warn me of danger when it p.r.i.c.kled and itched on my finger. I glanced down at it wryly.

In the stories I remembered one twist and straw would be spun into gold, a table spread with unimaginable delicacies-But of course! I still had all my money safe, so we wouldn't starve. We might have lost our transport, food, provisions, utensils and, saddest loss of all to me, my Boke and writing materials, but what was that against our lives and some money?

And my ring did give me the power to communicate with Growch and Mistral: why not send out a call to her to escape back to us if she could, however long it took? Given the choice, I would rather have her back than regain our goods. If the carter turned her loose perhaps she would find us. Shutting my eyes and praying that my thoughts had the power of travel I sent her a message, wondering at the same time if I wasn't being foolish to hope.

And while I was about it, an ordinary prayer wouldn't do any harm. So I made one, and Gill joined in with an ”Amen.”

Rising to my feet I dusted myself down, retrieved Gill's staff, put one end into his right hand and took the other in my left.

”Right! Hang on tight. I'll try and keep to the smoother part of the road, but it will soon be dark and we must seek shelter.”

”Where?”

”There are woods a mile or so down the road.”

”And what do we do for food?”

”I'll find something.”

”Not more of your stupid 'magic,' I hope!”

”If you must know, yes, I have tried to reach Mis-the horse.”

”What rubbis.h.!.+ She's miles away by now. You'll never see her again.”

”Wait and see. . . .”

And in this way we set off down the road in the gathering gloom, a sneaky wind fingering my ankles and blowing up my skirts indecently. Then just as we reached the shelter of the first trees, it started to rain. It was now almost too dark to see, and we sheltered uneasily, unwilling to lose our footing venturing father into the forest. But the rain came down harder, and while the firs and pines provided some protection, the oaks and beech had lost most of their leaves by now and were useless as shelter.

From the distance came a growl of thunder, a gust of wind shook the branches above us, increasing our wet misery with a few hundred more drops, and we struggled on, Gill falling on every tenth step and Growch tripping me up on every twentieth. If we didn't find better shelter soon we could die of exposure- A vivid flash of lightning flared through the trees, followed almost immediately by a tremendous clap of thunder and- And something else.

A frightened cry. An owl? Something trapped? Someone in distress? It came again. The high-pitched whinny of a terrified horse. This time I recognised it at once.

”Mistral!” I shouted. ”Mistral, where are you?”

An answer came, but from which direction? I plunged forward, forgetting Gill, and we near tumbled together.

”Mistral, Mistral! Here, we're here!”

But it took a few minutes more of stumbling around and calling before she found us. I flung my arms around her trembling neck, dropping my end of Gill's staff.

”What happened? Are you all right? How did you escape?” I had forgotten about thought-speech, forgotten that Gill would hear me.

She told me that when the carter had rattled off down the road she had resigned herself to her fate, but once she heard my thought-call-yes, she had heard it-she struggled to free herself, but alas! I had fastened her too securely to the tail of the cart. Then she had tried to bite through the rope, with little success until the cart had b.u.mped over a particularly deep rut, when the chewed rope had at last parted, and she had galloped back to find us.

”Brought the food back with you?” asked Growch hopefully.

”Everything is just as it was. He didn't stop to investigate.” She paused. ”But now I am so tired and wet. . . .”

”Now you're back everything will be fine,” I said. ”I'll light the lantern and we'll find a snug spot in no time at all!”

”And eat,” said Growch.

For once I was in full agreement with him. ”And eat.”