The Rose Of The World Part 7

Meggie looked up at him. She had lit a small fire, contained within a circle of stones from the shallows of the river. 'All well?' she asked softly.

'Yes.' He lay down on his blanket and gave a deep sigh.

Meggie watched him. She could tell how tired he was. She was wrapped up warmly in her cloak and blanket, leaning comfortably back against her saddle. 'Go to sleep,' she said. 'You look as if you can't keep your eyes open any longer.'

He yawned widely. 'Very well. Call me when it's my turn to watch.'

'I will.' She smiled at him, but he had already shut his eyes. He turned on his side, away from her, and wound his cloak around him. He would get a decent sleep before his turn came, she reflected, since she felt wide awake, despite her bodily fatigue. Her mind was racing, refusing to shut off. It was no use fighting it, and so she let her thoughts roam back over the hours and the miles since she had set out from the House in the Woods.

She had been surprised at the ease with which she had picked up Rosamund's scent. Well, she corrected herself, it was not exactly a scent, because that implied that it was something you could detect with your sense of smell. It was more a sort of feeling, a certain knowledge that Rosamund had stood just there. Meggie remembered how it had felt to stand with her eyes shut absorbing Rosamund's essence, concentrating so intently on the strange sensation that she had barely registered her father and Gus coming up behind her. She had believed that was going to be all she could manage, but then she had realized there was more. She found the direction in which Rosamund had set off and, once she became used to interpreting what her senses were telling her, it was relatively easy to follow where Rosamund and her abductor had gone. Provided she went quickly she had a strong suspicion that this weird effect would not be long lasting there was a chance that Rosamund might be found.

Meggie had barely heard the others agonizing over where Rosamund could be and how they would set about finding her. She had volunteered the small amount of information she had Helewise, she had noticed, had been watching her keenly, as if she'd known Meggie's thoughts were not entirely on the discussion but in the privacy of her own head she had been struck with wonder at her newly-discovered gift and longing to begin testing it. As soon as her father and Helewise had set off for Tonbridge, she had slipped away from the house and almost instantly she had discovered Rosamund's trail. Already, the essence had been fading; she'd known that she was going to have to hurry.

She had also understood that she needed a horse. She waited until her father returned, riding Alfred and leading Helewise's mare, and as soon as she could she went into the stables and tacked up Daisy, apologizing to the mare for having to take her out again so soon. For a desperate few moments she had not been able to locate the bridle; it had been on Will's workbench, waiting for him to mend a fraying st.i.tch. Typical of tidy-minded, painstaking Will, the strong needle and the thick thread were on the bench beside the saddle, and Meggie had quickly done the repair. It was not as neat a job as Will would have done, but the st.i.tching would hold.

She made herself ignore her guilt over setting out without telling her father. It was an unbreakable house rule, imposed on them all from Josse himself to the smallest child of Tilly and Gus: always let someone know where you're going and when you expect to be back. It was quite right and made total sense, living as they did in the depths of the wildwood and in the middle of hard times, when there were desperate men about who would attack and harm you for the price of your boots.

I'm sorry, dear, dear Father, she said to him silently as she led Daisy away, looking over her shoulder all the time in case someone spotted her. I know you'll worry, because, although you try to hide it, you get twitchy even when I stay over at the hut for a few days, and it's pretty safe there.

She knew she had to go alone. The presence of anybody else even someone she loved as profoundly as she loved her father would have altered the balance and might have obliterated that small, clear voice that seemed to be calling out to her: Follow me. Follow me.

She had ridden on for all the rest of that day, sometimes quickly, when there was only one obvious direction to take and she did not have to keep dismounting to check that she had not gone wrong, and sometimes agonizingly slowly. Once, out to the west of Hawkenlye Abbey, she had become confused by many sets of hoof prints and boot prints and it had taken her almost till dusk to find the trail again. By then it had faded so much that it was barely detectable . . .

The awareness that she was cold broke across her thoughts. She reached out to poke the fire, and the sudden, leaping flames sent a wave of warmth out to her. Ninian had collected plenty of firewood, so she put a couple of lengths on top of the blaze.

Ninian. She glanced over at his sleeping form. It had been quite a surprise to discover that she had not been the only one on Rosamund's trail . . .

She had spent her first night on the high ground to the west of the Hawkenlye vale. Although the mighty woods of the Wealden Forest ended to the south-west of the abbey, there were still occasional wooded rises, and she had made her meagre camp at the top of one of them. She had come well prepared, making fire with her flint and steel and cooking a simple supper. The hot drink had been very welcome, and she had dosed herself with her own herbs. Wrapped in her heavy cloak and a couple of thick wool blankets, she had not fared too badly.

In the afternoon of the next day, she had spotted a rider ahead. Tensing, she had studied him. Her first instinct had been that it was Ninian, but then Rosamund had seen her abductor at quite close quarters and believed him to be Ninian. Meggie had forced herself to wait, testing out her first impression, and realized that she had no reason to doubt it. She put her heels to Daisy's sides and hurried to catch him up.

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 suns.h.i.+ne. 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 trespa.s.s,' 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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. n.o.body 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.

SEVEN.

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. n.o.body 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.

'To the chase!' he roared, and all the others joined the toast. 'To Madame Roe and Lord Fallow! Long may they thrive-'

'And long may we hunt them!' the men yelled back.

Then the lord caught sight of him. 'There you are!' he exclaimed. 'We missed you on the hunt today. Where have you been?'

A narrow path opened up between the men crowding around the lord. His heart hammering in his chest, slowly the man walked along it. The girl's small hand in his was hot and sweaty with nervous excitement.

The lord's eyes fell on her and for an instant opened in recognition.

'I have brought you an unexpected guest, my lord,' the man began, 'for I know that-'

He did not have the chance to explain himself. As if his lord saw everything that had happened in the past two days in the blink of an eye he probably did, for he was very, very clever and his mind worked as fast as quicksilver he turned to the man and fixed him with eyes that blazed with fury.

Into the hush that had suddenly descended, he said in an icy voice, 'So you bring me a girl?'

'I thought I-' the man stammered.

The lord, as if aware of all the ears straining to hear, flung out his arm in a wide gesture. 'Get out, the lot of you,' he shouted. 'Go and hurry those blasted cooks. I want my dinner!'

One by one the others shuffled away. The man and the girl stood side by side before the lord. 'You were saying?' the lord prompted silkily.

The man sidled closer. Speaking almost into his lord's ear, he whispered, 'We I know that your preference is for young women, my lord. Why, your good lady wife was scarce more than this girl's age when you wed her, and she-'

The lord flung out his balled fist, and it was only the man's quick reaction that saved him. 'Do not dare speak of my wife!' the lord hissed. His face was scarlet with fury, the bright eyes swelling alarmingly above the puffy cheeks. 'She was young, yes, when first I laid eyes on her, but she was precociously mature and already a woman!' He paused, panting. 'What do you think I am?' he demanded, the low, controlled voice almost worse than the awful shouting. 'You have brought me a child!'

The man wanted to weep. Everything had gone amiss. He had got it wrong, as so often he did. Already, the voices were starting up their clamour inside his head, jeering at him, accusing him, calling him a fool.

His lord had beckoned to the girl, and she was slowly walking up to him. He held out a hand, and she took it. He was speaking to her; the man knew he must be because he could see the lord's lips moving. He told the voices to be quiet so that he could listen.

'-your name, child?' the lord was asking.

'Rosamund Warin.' The girl spoke up clearly, causing the lord to smile.

'Rosamund,' he said. 'Rose of the world. Warin . . . Yes, I know the name. Who is your father, Rosamund Warin?'

'He is called Dominic and he lives at New Winnowlands.'

'I know that name, too,' mused the lord. He frowned in concentration for a few moments, and then, his prodigious memory coming to his aid, he said, 'The abbess of Hawkenlye was called Warin.'

'Yes, she's my grandmother, only she's not abbess there any more. She-' Rosamund did not go on. The man wondered why. It was not that the lord had stopped her; more as if she herself had elected not to say any more.

The lord did not appear to have noticed.

The man watched him intently. As if the lord felt his eyes on him, he looked up and stared right at him.

The man bowed his head to receive whatever furious invective the lord chose to hurl at him. He did not even dare to think what his punishment would be. It would be severe and it would be painful, that was for sure.

The lord's voice said calmly, 'Look at me.'

Slowly, the man obeyed. To his huge surprise, the lord was smiling. 'You are a fool,' he said, quite pleasantly, 'but then I expect you already know that, for people no doubt tell you all the time.'

'Yes, my lord,' the man muttered. He very much wanted to lower his eyes, for the lord's hard stare was paining him, but he did not dare.

'A fool, but it may yet be that in your folly you have unwittingly done me a service,' the lord went on. He paused, frowning. 'Yes,' he said softly, more to himself than to the man. 'Yes, I believe that would work very well . . .'

The man waited. Between him and the lord, Rosamund stood quite still, like a slender statue. The lord turned to her. 'Why were you brought here, child? Do you know?' he asked her kindly.

'He said there was to be a party,' she said, nodding her head towards the man. 'He told me I would meet you, lord, and he said it was a surprise.' She stopped, and it seemed to the man, watching her back, that her shoulders drooped a little.

The lord must have noticed, too. 'Would you like to go home?' he said gently.

Her head shot up. 'May I?' Then, as if she remembered her manners: 'I mean, after the party, of course.'

'Of course,' the lord echoed. He leaned towards her. 'Tomorrow I shall take you back to Hawkenlye Abbey,' he announced.

'But my grandmother-' The girl bit off the rest of whatever she was going to say. If she had been about to point out again that her grandmother was no longer abbess of Hawkenlye, she must have thought better of it. Perhaps, the man reflected, she had decided that being taken to the abbey was as good an offer as she was going to get and she had better accept it. 'Thank you, my lord,' she said instead. 'That would be most convenient.'

'Good,' the lord said. Then, his eyes dancing with light as if he were contemplating some wonderful event: 'Good!' He clapped his hands, yelled to the others that they could come back and told them to bring the food with them.

The remainder of the evening had pa.s.sed in a blur. Everyone had drunk a lot, and the shouting and the singing had all resonated inside the man's head, competing with the voices that alternately cajoled, threatened and, very occasionally, praised him.

The others made him the b.u.t.t of their mocking jokes, and it had hurt him. He had done all this, conceived his brilliant plan, to stop them treating him like an idiot. He had truly believed that bringing the girl would please his lord so much that the lord would turn to him, thank him and announce that he was to be advanced to the post of one of the lord's close guard. That would have shown them, all of them, for at long last he would have been in his rightful place at his lord's side.

Where he, of all men, surely belonged. Even if n.o.body ever seemed to remember it.

It was late now, and everybody was sleeping. The girl had been accorded a corner to herself, and the lord had made sure that she was snug and comfortable. He had commanded that the men respect her privacy, and the man knew that n.o.body would dare to disobey. The girl was safe now.

Somehow, despite the fact that his plan had gone so badly awry, he could not help being glad about that. It had never been his intention to hurt her. He'd just had to use her as a means to an end, in much the same way that people used him.