Running out of the bedroom, leaving the bag lying on the floor, she fled down the landing towards the staircase. At the top of the stairs she paused and looked round. Even from up here she could sense that suddenly there was a strange feeling in the room below. As if it were full of people; people she couldn’t see. She could hear a faint stirring, sense a crowd, smell the warmth of hay and horses and she had the feeling that someone was looking up at her. Her mouth went dry and she realised it was hard to breathe. All her bravura had gone. She had never been so frightened in her life. She looked round desperately and realised suddenly that she had to go down the stairs, into the midst of whatever was going on; there was no other way out.
She glanced over her shoulder. She could go back, run down the landing, hide. Hide where? In one of the bedrooms? But then what would happen when they came back? Zoë and Ken would catch her. She was looking backwards and forwards like a small hunted animal, frozen with fear. She had started something, switched something on which she knew suddenly she would not be able to stop.
She wanted Leo. He would know what to do, but how could she reach him? He was out on the boat still, and even if he came back he wouldn’t know where she was. She heard herself give a small whimper and immediately, as though the sound had broken a spell, everything around her was normal again. She stood still, not daring to move, then slowly she walked to the balustrade and looked down into the room beneath. It was quiet again. She could hear nothing but her own harsh breathing.
She turned and ran back to the stairs, fled down them and across the great room to the kitchen. In there she pulled open the door and ran out, leaving it open behind her and tore across the grass towards The Old Forge. There, she scrabbled for the key under the flower pot. It had gone. With a small sob she remembered Leo taking it away from her and putting it into his pocket. She pressed herself against the door trying to catch her breath, then she sank down on the doorstep, huddled against the wood which was warm in the sunlight. She was safe there and soon, very soon, he would come back and find her.
Eric was gasping for breath as he reached the outlying cottages of the village. They were deserted. Everyone was up at the hall, and from where he stood he could see the light streaming from the open doors, hear the sound of the lyre and the horn carried on the wind. He glanced behind him. There was no sign yet of the men from the ship. All was quiet, any sound masked by the roar of the rising wind in the trees along the river. The earlier mist had gone. The first of the autumn gales had set in with a vengeance as rags of black cloud raced across the moon’s face.
The door to his own house was closed. He thrust it open and peered in. All was totally dark. There was no fire. His wife’s body had gone. He paused a moment, head bowed, to wish her on her way wherever they had taken her, then he ducked out of the building again and pulled the door closed behind him. He would never set foot there again.
He set off up the track, pausing to push open one or two further doors as he passed to make sure the houses were empty. He could hear the animals moving restlessly in their pens; they sensed something was wrong. Nearby a dog was howling. He stopped to cut through the leash which tied it to a ring in the doorpost and it vanished into the night.
There were guards outside the door to the hall. They saw him coming and drew their swords. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘Let me speak. Tell them inside. The Vikings are in the river. They have landed below the field of the dead. Tell everyone to flee.’ He bent over, trying to regain his breath.
One of the men began to head towards him threateningly. ‘Murderer! Traitor! You laid hands on Hrotgar and you must pay with your life!’ he shouted.
The other hesitated, taking in what Eric had shouted. ‘Vikings?’ the man repeated.
‘Vikings!’ Eric pulled Destiny Maker off his shoulder and held it out before him. Both men skidded to a halt. ‘Tell them,’ Eric yelled in anguish, ‘for God’s sake, tell them! They have to run!’
One of the men turned and ran towards the hall, disappearing inside as Eric felt the first blow between his shoulder blades. As he staggered forward with a gasp he realised two other men had appeared from the shadows. Destiny Maker flew out of his hand and disappeared into the dark. His arms were wrenched behind him and he felt a thong being slipped around his wrists. ‘Take him away and secure him. The Lord Oswald will deal with him when the mourning is over,’ someone called.
‘Stop! Listen!’ Eric screamed. ‘The Viking host is here. In the river. Can no one understand me? What is the matter with you? Tell them! You must flee, all of you. Protect your women and children!’
The blow that silenced him came from behind. For a moment his head rang like a great bell, then all went black. As they dragged him away he heard a voice as if from a million miles away saying, ‘Did you hear what he said? Vikings!’ There was a note of fear.
‘Rubbish,’ came the reply, then all he knew was that his legs were dragging on the ground and he was being taken away and thrown into the dark, and a door was barricaded from the outside.
The group of walkers paused in the lane by the gap in the hedge which Rosemary had cut. Bill had obviously found it and filled the gap with a roll of wire. With an exclamation of irritation she moved forward and reached for her gloves. ‘Can someone give me a hand pulling it out of the way? Wretched man!’
No one volunteered for a moment and at last it was Steve who stepped towards her and reached gingerly for a handhold which wouldn’t lacerate his fingers. ‘I’m afraid this is a sign of the opposition we are going to encounter,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘I am glad you are all wearing boots, as you can see they have ploughed the land to make things as difficult for us as possible. And it’s not going to work.’ She helped Steve haul the wire out of the hedge and he pushed it back from the opening, then they led the way through the gap. The soil was newly turned into huge smooth slices of mud, the giant furrows rolling like waves across the field, and as the others followed her through the hedge they could all see the tractor still moving steadily away into the distance. To walk towards the centre on the line of Rosemary’s putative path involved treading diagonally across the muddy wasteland, something which was going to prove uncomfortable and exhausting. There was a murmur of anger as they set off.
Behind them another group of people had appeared at the top of the lane. Lesley Inworth and Penny Turtill had marshalled their supporters and were heading down towards the field.
‘What are we going to do?’ Lesley asked breathlessly, trying to keep up. ‘There are an awful lot of them.’ At least two dozen as far as she could see as they set out in a straggling line across the furrows. ‘Are we going to lie down and make them walk over us?’
There was an appreciative wave of laughter from the half-dozen or so men and women following them. Lesley spotted the Lloyds’ party walking towards them and waved. ‘We need support! We are outnumbered!’ she called.
John looked at Ken and grinned. ‘I’m up for it! Are we allowed to hit them?’
‘No.’ Lesley heard him as the two parties converged. ‘Sadly not.’
‘We can talk and shout and argue; we can get in the way. We can take photos of any damage they do,’ Penny said. ‘They are trespassing and if they don’t leave when we ask we can contact the police. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if necessary that is what I am going to do.’
‘Where is Bill?’ Lesley asked suddenly. ‘He should be here.’
‘I thought he was down with the tractor,’ Penny replied, shading her eyes, staring down the field. ‘That’s Mike,’ she said. ‘So, where is Bill?’ She set off down the field striding purposefully over the furrows. The others followed.
Amanda found herself next to Zoë. ‘Isn’t Leo joining us?’
Zoë shook her head. ‘He would hate this. I should imagine he’s still down on the boat.’
‘And the fearsome child?’
Zoë laughed. ‘No idea.’
Amanda was already breathless from the unaccustomed strenuou
sness of the walk. ‘Look, I didn’t get the chance to mention it before, but I had a talk with Jade when you were with Leo. She is venomously jealous. You want to watch out for her.’
Zoë smiled. ‘I don’t think I need to be terrified. She’s only eleven, Amanda.’
‘I wouldn’t underestimate her. As far as she is concerned he is her property.’
‘You discussed me with her?’
‘It was the other way round. She told me to warn you off.’
Zoë fell silent. ‘The whole family are a bit odd,’ she said after a while. ‘On top of that, she has been left far too much to her own devices. I think Leo is the only person who has ever taken any notice of her.’
The others had slowed as they reached the centre of the field at last, closing up with Rosemary’s party, who had formed a solid phalanx at the edge of the trees. ‘Here,’ Rosemary was saying, ‘I removed the wire which was blocking the way. Luckily it had already been cut.’ She stared defiantly at Penny. ‘And I found a path leading directly into and through the copse, just as I thought. It hasn’t been ploughed or interfered with so it is easy to see where it led. Directly in the direction we knew it would down to the far corner of the field and out onto the path near the landing stage.’
‘And why, Rosemary, would anyone want to go to the landing stage apart from us?’ Ken asked sharply. ‘With all due respect, it is private. As we have told you before, it says so in our deeds as I’m sure it does in yours.’
Rosemary flushed with anger. ‘The ownership of the landing stage is irrelevant here. In the past it belonged to everyone.’
‘So your next target is to end its privacy and allow the general public access?’
‘No, I –’
‘Then what are they going to do when they get here, Rosemary? Turn round and go back again?’ Penny asked.
‘No, they will follow the track round. That is a public footpath already.’
‘And that public footpath is enough for them going up that way, but not any use coming down?’
‘That is not the point!’ Rosemary retorted. ‘As will be seen when the council replies to my demand that the path be reinstated.’ She turned away. ‘Enough. Come on. Follow me and you will all see for yourselves how the path is clearly still there for all to see in the copse.’
Leo paused at the top of the track and glanced left towards the field. He could hear the sound of the tractor clearly now, see the clouds of following gulls over the tops of the trees. He smiled. So Bill was ploughing the field; he doubted if it would thwart Rosemary but it would make it uncomfortable for them to walk over, and as far as he remembered farmers had the right anyway to plough up public footpaths in the course of their legitimate activities as long as they reinstated them fairly soon afterwards.
Unable to resist the temptation of seeing what was going on, he walked slowly up to the gate to watch. They were all there, the occupants of the barns, except – he found himself checking automatically – Jade was nowhere to be seen. His gaze went back to Zoë, who was standing with another woman, presumably Amanda, a little apart from the others, obviously there, like him, to observe and not take part. Zoë glanced up suddenly as though aware of his eyes on her and he saw her look towards him. He smiled. There was no denying the link between them. Amanda turned to see who Zoë was looking at, then he saw Ken look round as well. His personality was obviously magnetic this morning! He lifted a hand. Only Zoë waved back. He saw Ken scowl and turn away.
His glance strayed back to the copse where Rosemary’s group of followers was gathering. He screwed up his eyes against the glare of the sun, conscious suddenly that something was different about the place. Normally he didn’t notice it; there was no need. He had never walked in the field, and he didn’t often walk down the lane either, but the copse in the centre of the newly ploughed land seemed larger than usual. He could see an odd shimmer of light over it. Had she been in there and cut down some trees? Surely even Rosemary wasn’t capable of such a thing? The air was vibrating slightly over the trees, like a mirage; it looked strangely sinister. Leaning on the gate he found he couldn’t drag his eyes away.
Mike Turtill drew the tractor to a halt near the gate where Jackson was waiting and carefully engaged the lever to lift the plough. The blades rose slowly out of the earth and came to a stop at a forty-five degree angle behind the tractor.
‘That’s it. All done. Beautiful job, though I says it myself.’ He slid down from the high seat and walked round to the back, leaving the engine running and the cab door open. ‘Just checking all is well then I’ll head back with it and park up.’
‘No.’ Jackson shook his head. ‘The plan was you’d drive at them and scatter them! Give them a fright!’
Mike shook his head. ‘Too dangerous, mate. Look I’ll take it over there and leave it by the hedge, then I’ll come back and find you and we can go and join the fray. We can cause enough chaos without trying to murder them!’
Jackson laughed. He was standing near the huge offside back wheel, another can of lager in his hand. ‘Why not? Can’t think of anything I’d like more.’ He chucked the can into the hedge and patted the tyre. ‘I think there’s a bit more fun to be had with this baby first, though.’ He reached up for the footplate and scrambled nimbly into the cab.
‘Oi!’ Mike ducked away from his examination of the linkage behind the tractor. ‘Get down. You’re not allowed up there!’
‘Course I am. As you reminded me, your dad taught me.’ Jackson leaned forward and put his hands on the wheel, then he reached for the gear lever.
‘No, Jackson, get off!’ Mike was really worried now. He leaned in and tried to wrench open the door but already Jackson had the tractor moving. Mike leaped out of the way just in time. ‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘You can’t drive it like that. You fucking idiot!’ The tractor was gaining speed, the plough with its huge metal shares, like giant teeth still raised behind it, swinging crazily as it headed across the furrows towards the group of walkers.
‘Through here.’ Rosemary had located the place where she had cut the wire. She ushered her group through the gap and into the shadows of the trees. ‘See there. A path, just as I said.’ She gestured at the narrow animal track which in daylight was barely visible in the long grass. ‘It skirts the bottom of the burial mound, if that is what it is, so if people are worried about desecrating the place, they needn’t be.’ She laughed uncomfortably. The strange feeling from the cold early dawn was still there. Restless, angry; almost threatening. Wondering if anyone else could feel it, she glanced round and noticed the tractor getting closer. The engine was straining, deafeningly loud now, black smoke pouring from the exhaust stack above the cab as it hurtled across the field towards them lurching uncontrollably over the furrows.
‘Bloody fool,’ someone said. ‘If he’s not careful he’ll flatten his precious mound!’ The group moved back as one the way they had come through the gap in the wire and back to the field to watch.
‘It’s not Bill,’ Steve shouted. ‘It’s that idiot Watts boy! For God’s sake, what does he think he’s doing?’
17
Emily was standing in the stables, looking at the cob who was pulling at a hay net as Pip brushed down the stall next door. The boy had been whistling until she came in. Now he was sullenly silent, his back turned resolutely towards her as he worked. She noticed the cob had turned its head towards her briefly, laid back its ears and rolled its eyes. So, even the horse hated her.
Sam walked down the long line of empty stalls and stopped beside her. ‘Can I help you, my lady?’
She nodded. ‘I want to ride. Will you have him saddled for me, please?’
Sam turned and looked at the horse then he turned back to her. ‘I am sorry, my lady, he has cast a shoe. No one can use him until he has been to the farrier.’
‘Then why not take him down there?’
There was a long pause. ‘There is no one there to shoe him, my lady. I understand Mr Henry has advertised for a new farrier
and blacksmith for the farm, but until one is found, we have to wait until someone is free to walk him up to the village to see Jo Wicks.’
Emily was staring at him. ‘Where is Daniel?’
Sam pressed his lips together. ‘I understand you will have to ask Mr Henry that, my lady.’
‘But my husband isn’t here.’
‘No, my lady.’ Sam turned away and walked swiftly back down the line of stalls and out into the yard. Pip pushed at his broom, paused to splash some water over the cobbles and swept again, harder.
Emily walked back to the house and in through the front door. There she rang the bell. It was a long time before Beaton appeared.
‘Do you know when my husband is returning?’ she asked.
He inclined his head slightly towards her. ‘I am sorry, my lady. He did not inform me.’
‘Are there no horses I can ride?’
‘That is for Sam to say, my lady, but I understand not.’
‘Who is shoeing the working horses?’
‘I am afraid that is not my department, my lady. I have no idea.’
‘I gather Daniel has left our service.’
She was watching his face closely and she saw the slight wince as he turned away. ‘I oversee the house servants, my lady. I have no idea what happens down on the farm.’
‘But that’s not true, is it?’ she insisted. ‘You all know everything. I am the only one who doesn’t. I have no maid, Mrs Field tells me nothing, I am alone here and now I am a prisoner in my own house!’
‘You are no prisoner, my lady.’ Beaton carefully schooled his features. ‘There is nothing to stop you walking outside.’
‘Then I will. I will walk down to the farm. I cannot believe the Turtills have gone as well.’
‘I am sure not, my lady.’ He paused. ‘Will that be all, my lady?’
Her anger gave her the energy to walk the first half-mile. After that she slowed, regretting her high-heeled boots, but she was determined not to give in. In fact she had no alternative. It was clear there was no other way of either reaching the farm, or of returning home after her visit.
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