A scream rent the air.
And another. The world around me erupted into running and yelling. I turned to the man at my side, and his expression told me all I needed to know.
Seisyll was upon us.
Chapter 2
We must go. Now!’ Idris yanked my sleeve, dragging me away from the grave. ‘Move!’ he yelled. ‘Cai, fetch the horses.’
His son didn’t hesitate, taking off at a fast run in the direction of the stables. I stared after him, my mind and body sluggish. We needed more time. My people weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready.
The distant hills were dotted with tiny black specks pouring down the sides of Bryn Fawr, less than two miles away. In moments, the first riders reached the trees covering the lower slopes in lush May growth, and disappeared into the woods.
I moved towards the last of the carts, but Idris pulled me away.
‘We are not going with them,’ he said. ‘We have to split up.’
‘But–’
‘Stick to the plan,’ he growled. ‘We go one way, everyone else, the other.’
What plan? I knew nothing of any plan.
‘What about Leri and the rest of the children?’ I cried.
‘Ghent will see to them. He has horses waiting.’
‘Caitlyn.’ Eldon, Rhain’s only surviving son, wriggled and squirmed, his frail hands stretched out to me, calling.
‘Can we take Eldon at least?’ I pleaded. ‘He is so little.’ But Eldon’s wails were lost in the mayhem as he was whisked around the side of the bakery.
‘My lady, Seisyll will kill you if he catches you. You are a threat to him because of your father. Stop talking and run!’
Threat? Me? Then Idris’ words sank in.
He pushed me again, and this time I needed no further urging, taking off after Cai with my skirts bunched high around my knees, and my cloak slapping my calves, struggling against the flow as we dodged around panicked villagers. The stables were on the other side of the hall and the streets in between were filled with desperate people. Most took to their heels, but a few headed for the carts.
‘What about them?’ I yelled at Idris, dodging a woman with an armful of squawking chickens.
‘They’ll have to take their chances with Seisyll.’
‘But–’
He stopped and whirled around to grip my shoulders, his hard fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh at the top of my arms, his face inches from mine. ‘You know you can’t help any of them.’ His words cut like a blade. ‘They will never keep up.’
He had regained his swarthy complexion and wore a hard-set, determined expression. Shock had finally worn off, leaving resolve in its place.
He was right. Of course, he was right.
I nodded. Heart heavy, I pulled myself free and turned to run, careening into an old woman, almost sending her sprawling. She clung to me, steadying herself. Her eyes met mine, the fear in them mirroring my own. It was old Menni, the tanner’s widow. None of her sons or grandsons had returned from the battle. Tears coursed down the creases in her face and her mouth was a toothless hole of anguish.
I turned to Idris. ‘Please, we must take her. She can ride with me.’ If I could save just this one…
‘Stupid woman! Have you not heard a word I said?’ Idris pulled my arm, almost dragging me off my feet.
Menni stretched out a hand. The accusation in those rheumy eyes pierced my heart. I couldn’t help her – I couldn’t help any of them. I turned away, and hated myself for it.
We ran.
As we neared the stables, Idris spotted his son, leading three horses – two destriers and my little white mare, Silver. I grabbed the reins from Cai and swiftly checked the girth, pulling it tight.
My horse stamped, crabbing sideways, keen to be off. The other two steeds, battle-trained and war-hardened, waited with calm readiness, their flicking ears the only sign of eagerness. I brought the palfrey around in a circle to curb her irritation, avoiding her sharp little hooves as she snorted and stamped some more. At least my mare was fresh and the other two were fed and somewhat rested. Seisyll’s mounts would be hard pushed to catch us.
‘Where are we to go?’ I asked.
Idris caught hold of my foot and hoisted me into the saddle. My feet found the stirrups and I settled my skirts around me, tucking the material under my legs.
‘Wulfstan,’ Idris said, mounting his own steed.
‘Where?’
Idris did not answer me a second time.
‘Hie!’ he shouted to his mount, pulling the horse’s head around and clapping his heels to its sides. The stallion leapt into a canter.
Shortening the reins, I urged my own horse forward and the mare launched herself after Idris. I grabbed her mane to stop myself from falling backwards.
We were out of the village in a heartbeat. Shouts and screams rang in my ears, as Seisyll’s men reached the outlying buildings. I risked a swift glance over my shoulder, and wished I hadn’t as a plume of smoke billowed into the sky. The invaders were putting the town to the torch. Please God, spare my people.
I wanted to turn back, to see their fate for myself. We didn’t have to go far, just enough so Seisyll thought we’d escaped. We could circle back under the cover of darkness, and...
‘Faster!’ Cai yelled.
A score of riders had peeled away from the force which had broken through the barricade, and were following us. I kicked my horse into a gallop. The wind tore at my hair and plucked at my clothes. Hooves pounded the ground, kicking up clods of earth. Arrows flew about our heads, but thankfully the distance was too great to give them any bite. One struck my arm and bounced off, lacking the power to penetrate my otter-skin cloak. Sick with dread, I clung to the saddle, praying Silver’s hooves stayed clear of rabbit holes.
We fled east, the scent of smoke following us for miles, carried by the gusting westerly wind. Our pursuers fell behind, their horses too weary to keep up with our more rested, slightly fresher mounts.
Our headlong gallop faded to a slow canter, then a trot, and finally a walk. My palfrey, unable to sustain the punishing pace of the warhorses, was spent. Sweat foamed on her neck and she blew hard, her sides heaving.
Poor Silver. Tears pricked and I blinked them away. The clothes on my back, the few possessions in the saddlebags, and the horse I rode were all which remained of the time I had spent as queen of Deheubarth. I had ridden this mare to my marriage feast, her haunches covered with cloth of gold, my own shoulders draped in a cloak of russet fox fur, flowers braided through my hair. I patted the mare’s neck. This ride was to the death, and much depended on her speed and strength. I prayed she had the stamina to carry me to safety.
‘Sorry,’ I whispered into her laid-back ears.
‘My lady?’ Idris dropped back, matching his horse’s pace to Silver’s as she plodded, head drooping. Cai remained in the rear.
‘Are we safe?’ I asked.
‘They will follow us for some time yet. You are a prize indeed, my lady,’ Idris said.
‘I am no prize.’
‘You underestimate yourself.’
‘What can I do against an army? Seisyll has nothing to fear from me.’ I sounded as bitter as I felt.
‘You have a legitimate claim to the throne of Gwynedd, through your dead father, and you are wife to the king of Deheubarth. The other Welsh princes are looking over their shoulders wondering if he will take their lands next. They will rally behind you to oust Seisyll, and he knows this.’
‘It may have escaped your notice, Idris, but I am a woman. No one will join my cause.’
‘They will.’ He sounded so certain. ‘And I am well aware you are a woman, my lady.’
Aside from my wits, these two men were my only defence against those who hunted me. My gratitude to them almost made me weep.
‘I haven’t heard of a place called Wulfstan,’ I said, to change the subject. ‘Is it far?’ If I wished to keep my sanity I should not look back, nor dwell too much on
what I had lost. Wulfstan was most certainly my immediate future.
‘Wulfstan is a man.’
Oh. He was taking me to a man? ‘Tell me about him.’
‘He fights well.’ Idris shrugged his cloaked shoulders, as if fighting well was the only thing I needed to know about this stranger, the only thing which mattered.
I tried not to roll my eyes. ‘Will he welcome us?’
‘I expect so. He has no axe to grind with the Welsh. He leaves us alone and we leave him alone. Though to be fair, it is difficult to do anything else when there is a dirty great estuary in between.’
‘An estuary?’
‘Where the River Severn meets the sea, though where the river ends and the sea begins is an ongoing argument. Crossing places are few and dangerous. Fording the river has to be done with meticulous timing, either at high tide or low, but not when the sea rushes up the estuary or is sucked back out. It is easier for Wulfstan to stay on his side.’
‘Yet we are to cross it?’
‘Aye. It is the quickest way to get to Wulfstan’s lands. The channel is the western border of Wessex, part of England.’
‘We are leaving Wales?’
‘No Welsh soil is safe for you now. Before we reach the channel, we have to traverse the Welsh principalities of Ystrad, Brycheiniog, and Gwent. Crossing may become a moot point if we fail to avoid their patrols, for I have no idea where their loyalties lie.’
‘But you said the Welsh princes are behind me?’ I frowned, trying to work out the intricacies.
‘Not all. Some may have made an allegiance with Seisyll. England is safer for you, until we can determine which ones will support you.’
‘What sort of man is Wulfstan?’ I persisted. ‘Is he a fair one? Where does his allegiance lie? Has he a wife?’
All I had was a spare gown in my saddlebag, a blanket tied to the saddle, and a few precious trinkets. What would he make of a beggared Welsh queen at his gate? Would he turn me away, or welcome me with open arms and an adder’s fanged grin? I knew nothing of the man I was about to entrust my life to.
‘I will answer to give your mount time to rest, but then we must increase the pace once more, Lady Caitlyn. Seisyll is following us; I guarantee it.’
I pulled my cloak tighter to hide my trembling. The day darkened, and with the dying of the sun the temperature dropped.
‘Wulfstan will harbour us,’ Idris said. ‘For a time and a price. He likes waifs and strays.’
‘Oh?’
Idris grunted. ‘Edward, who some say is the rightful king of England, is exiled in Normandy along with his brother. Edward regularly makes the journey across the English Channel and can often be found warming his arse at Wulfstan’s hearth, recruiting men to his cause.’
‘Has he been successful?’ I asked, not caring one way or the other, but wanting to keep Idris talking.
‘Not really. Edward is still in exile and Canute still sits on the throne of England.’
‘I am surprised King Canute tolerates it.’ I knew only the basics of English politics and very little of this foreign king.
‘Canute married Edward’s mother, Emma of Normandy, when her husband and Edward’s father, King Aethelred, died. If Canute is to maintain any kind of marital bliss, he had best not wage war on his wife’s eldest son. Besides, he is entrenched enough in his reign not to worry about a pious streak of dog piss like Edward.’
‘What does Wulfstan hope to gain by befriending Edward?’
‘I have no idea, but whatever the reason, he doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart.’
Idris reached across and slapped Silver on the rump. She jerked her head and lurched into a trot. Our headlong flight into the darkness resumed, and I held on with numb hands, numb backside, and numb heart, until at last Idris allowed the horses to slow once more. Night was upon us and anything faster than a walk would be suicide.
No moon tonight, and no stars either. Cloud followed us, carried on the westerly wind, swallowing the sun as it set and blanketing the rest of the sky. The night grew darker each time I blinked. How did Idris see in this blackness? Silver’s ears were barely visible. We must stop soon. To continue was madness.
Silver’s exhaustion had slowed her to a stumbling walk. Deathly tired, my bones aching, I slumped in the saddle, head lolling, fighting sleep with all the success of a babe with a belly full of milk, and I trusted Silver to follow the stallion without any guidance from me.
My eyes kept closing, only to jerk open at the clip of a hoof or the change in gait as the mare picked her way along the uneven path. I sensed open moors to either side of us, the wind whistling unceasingly through the heather, bringing the scent of sheep and new ferns.
And the smell of thyme, faint, but unmistakable.
I sniffed, turning my head this way and that, straining to peer into the night, but all around me was a dark and empty void.
Cringing in the saddle, I pulled the reins, bringing Silver to a stop. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t even see the hand I raised to my face.
I was blind.
Panic, sharp and bitter, dried my mouth.
I see you.
The presence from the church was in my mind once more. Those eyes, scalding in their intensity, seared me with an icy heat. She scorched me and froze me, until I burned and melted under her scrutiny. My soul gibbered and wept, the rest of me crushed by the force of her gaze. Such a terrible regard, filled with avarice and dark intentions
She turned away, and the pressure lifted. I let out a sigh, half gasp, half sob. She was leaving.
I screamed as she took me with her and the world around me disappeared.
Black. All was dim except for a glimmer of light high above. The darkness was like a lake and I cowered in its depths. Her wraith-like form ghosted upwards towards the light, and I swam after her, terrified of the abyss. The yellow light swelled from the size of a quince to the size of the sun, until it swallowed the darkness, and the flame of a candle filled my mind.
The room was an unfamiliar one. In it were two figures, one dead and one very much alive. The dead one, a boy, was curled in a chair, vomit dribbling down his chin. I stared at his open, lifeless eyes in horror.
The live one stooped over an irregular-shaped bowl and seemed to be studying its contents.
‘Merde!’ She straightened up with an oath and looked around her, searching the corners.
Was I dreaming? Had the shock of my husband’s death rendered me insensible? It must be so. What other explanation could there be, though it could be a dream, for dreams had plagued me all my life. This one was no different; more vivid perhaps, more terrifying, but nightmares were not known for being full of spring lambs and roses.
I huddled in the corner as she scrutinised the chamber. For a heart-stopping moment I thought she’d seen me. She paused at my corner and her gaze sharpened, those eyes narrowed and her lips drew into a thin line.
She moved on and I let out a long, slow breath. She hadn’t seen me.
The woman wiped her hands on a rag, picked up a goblet, sniffed the contents, and grimaced.
‘Il est mort,’ she said. ‘Merde.’
Was she speaking to me?
She walked to the hearth and threw the contents of the goblet into the fire. The flames blazed and growled, burning deep green. Black smoke billowed up the chimney, a writhing, living vapour, twisting and turning. I stared at it, squinting, certain I saw the vague forms of animals dancing and cavorting in its wispy depths. One looked vaguely like a cat…
The fire crackled and popped, and I flinched.
Her head turned, slowly, coming around, searching me out with a dreadful, malevolent glare, a smile lifting the corners of her lips, a cackling laugh issuing from her throat, one finger beckoning-
A horse snorted and I fell, hitting the ground with a thud and a cry.
The woman was gone. The room was gone. I was slumped on a rock-strewn muddy path, with the lingering smell of wood-smoke and thyme in my no
se.
Chapter 3
‘Mistress? My lady?’ A cold hand patted my cheek. ‘Did you fall?’ Idris asked.
Still lost in the gruesome chamber, trying to find any remnant of the woman in my mind, I ignored him.
‘She gave a cry and slid from her horse,’ Cai said, shuffling closer. ‘Is she injured?’
‘Caitlyn, can you hear me?’ Idris patted again, harder.
I blinked at the two men kneeling either side of me. The all-encompassing blackness had retreated and their faces were now pale discs of concern in the night.
‘Are you hurt?’ Idris asked.
‘No.’ My voice sounded weak and feeble. I cleared my throat.
‘Did you fall asleep?’ A chuckle hid in Cai’s words.
‘Must have,’ I croaked.
It had been a dream. Cai was right. I had fallen asleep in the saddle and dreamt the whole thing. Another one of my vivid nightmares. But…
I shuddered, unable to escape those gimlet eyes. They sat behind my own, a watcher within.
‘Should we halt for a moment?’ Idris shot a concerned glance over his shoulder, scanning the meadow beyond the bushes.
If we were still being followed, we needed to keep moving, and I shook my head. He grunted and helped me to my feet. I clambered onto Silver’s back. The mare gave me a weary, disgusted look as Idris resumed his place at the head of our little procession.
We plodded on. I rubbed my face and shifted in the saddle, not wanting to fall asleep again. The dream stayed with me through mile after unending mile. I poked and prodded at it, like a tongue at a loose tooth and simply couldn’t let it lie. The woman had seemed so real.
At some point during the never-ending night Idris halted at a fork in the path. ‘Right or left?’ he said to Cai, keeping his voice low.
‘Right.’ Cai’s horse bumped into mine.
Silver crabbed sideways and snorted, chomping noisily on her bit.
‘We can skirt around the southern slopes of the Black Mountains,’ Cai said. ‘If we stick to the road between the slopes on the north, and the valleys to the south, we may avoid notice.
Caitlyn Box Set Page 2