He ran off and I paced the grass, moaning with impatience. I had not told Caro the entire truth. The three persons I had named were indeed making towards us, but so were a larger group of men from Champains. It seemed my eyes were very much better than hers, for I had also seen muskets, and, hanging from one saddle, a chain.
My brothers arrived together, hot and breathless.
‘Is Caro hurt?’ Izzy panted as I handed the boy his penny. ‘Or is this some jest?’
I waited until the lad was out of earshot before saying, ‘There is an armed party coming along the Champains road: Patience, Walshe and Comish. With reinforcements.’
Never had I seen Zeb look so terrified. His warm colour drained at once. ‘Coming for me?’ he faltered.
‘Why you?’ Izzy’s voice was sharp.
‘Patience – the boy – but that’s none of my doing! You will bear witness, I gave of my tobacco—’
‘Friends do fall out,’ I said. ‘Can you prove you were not with him when he went under?’
Zeb grew paler still. ‘I was asleep in the chamber. But we can none of us stand witness for our brothers! Who will believe us?’
‘Patience? You are sure?’ Izzy urged me.
‘Yes! Yes! And we have no proof against her accusations.’
‘Nor has she any,’ he said.
‘She has her belly to prove some knowledge of us,’ I retorted. ‘And to come thus, they must believe the rest. Let’s be gone.’
Izzy said, ‘We all of us went to bed that night—’
‘They have joined together, and we sink or swim together,’ I cried.
‘Caro is gone to the stable with money and jewels. Will you seize the time?’
They stared at me, Izzy’s eyes screwed up in bewilderment, Zeb’s slowly clearing into decision.
‘You mean run away?’ Izzy asked at last. ‘Now, as we are?’ He looked from Zeb to me as if trying which of us would laugh first and spoil the jest.
Zeb caught hold of him. ‘I see it, Izz. Come with us, for the love of God,’ and he pulled Izzy along in the direction of the stable.
‘Indeed I will not!’ my elder brother cried, flinging about him. He knocked Zeb’s hand away. ‘I’ve done no wrong.’
‘Tisn’t what you’ve done, but what folk think,’ Zeb pleaded.
‘And if we cut away like a gang of thieves? What will they think then?’
‘Do what you will, I am going now,’ I said.
Izzy said, ‘You have doubtless your reasons.’ His eyes were suddenly grown cold. ‘But take Caro? To what purpose?’
‘She is my wife.’
‘Consider the danger you put her to.’
‘She is my wife,’ I repeated, feeling an obscure shame in the words as I turned and strode towards the stable. Zeb ran after me, then turned back and embraced Izzy. When he at last caught me up his cheeks were wet.
‘We lose time,’ I snapped.
Caro waited, bejewelled and trembling, at the stable door. I coughed at the scent of piss and straw, setting myself to obey Zeb’s orders for he was the only one who knew what he did.
‘Courage, child,’ he called to Caro as he ran about clutching spurs and whips. He was quick in saddling up.
‘Get up behind me,’ I called to Caro as I was about to mount.
‘Behind me, fool,’ Zeb hissed. ‘You’re too big and she needs to be with one who can ride. Give her a hand.’
‘The saddle’s wrong for a woman,’ Caro wailed. Shaking, clawing at Zeb’s coat, she put one leg across the horse, her gown bunching out fantastically on either side. The animal started forward.
‘Don’t squeeze him,’ Zeb rapped out. ‘Put your arms round me.’
‘I can’t do this.’ She was in tears.
‘O, but you will,’ he replied.
‘Jacob,’ she quavered, ‘let us stay. The Mistress loves me, she will not permit—’
‘Can she turn back musket balls? There are armed men.’ I urged my horse forward through the door and we were out in the stable yard. Despite having Caro behind him, Zeb soon passed me. I saw his hair whip back into her face. The cobbles shone in the sun; there was a flash, and one of the sapphire earrings dropped into the straw and muck of the yard.
Ihad never learnt to sit a horse. Now I banged up and down, hoping only to stay in the saddle. My brother, light and easy in his seat, had his own trials for I could see how Caro dragged on him. Her face was pressed up against his coat, eyes closed, lips forced back over her teeth, and she looked to be crying. A foul smell wafted to me and I saw that she had vomited onto her gown. My own gorge rose at it, and I turned my head aside.
We were headed for the woodland which lay behind Beaurepair, and which was still unenclosed. To get there we had to go through the gate. I had not seen the keeper at the betrothal, but we might yet be in luck, for he was in love with one of the dairymaids and none too fond of his work. We pounded along the track towards this gate, leaving by the back of the house as our pursuers approached by the front.
‘God be praised!’ Zeb screamed. I looked: it was one of the keeper’s days for courting, and the gate stood open. We were through it without his having so much as seen us, and clattering along the open road. On the horizon lay the wood, and I prayed we might reach it without being seen.
Zeb kept up the pace. My shirt was soaked, from the labour of staying in the saddle and the terror of being thrown. An ugly twist of sickness came upon me without warning, and my mouth brimmed with bitter juice; I spat, breathing hard to keep the sickness down. There was something metallic on my tongue: I had chewed my lip, and drawn blood.
I am watching out for you, came the Voice, so sudden that it frighted me.
I looked back as we plunged into the wood. There was nothing on the road. A green scent of moss and darkness closed about us and the air at once grew cool. Zeb urged his horse on between the trees until he turned into a narrow track on the right and straightway went crashing down a steep slope, then up a bank on the opposite side. I was hot and cold from feeling the ground drop under me, and I could hear Caro’s sobs. They slackened as the terrain levelled out, and the track widened into a clearing. We continued more slowly. I shifted, trying to ease the pain in my thighs, and spurred my mount until it drew level with Zeb’s. ‘Are you going right through?’
He shook his head. Caro stared piteously at me. She was still wearing the rose chaplet and it vied for pallor with her brow and cheeks. There were blood smears behind her left ear. I reached across and lifted the cursed thing, tossing it into a bush.
‘Here’s as good as anywhere,’ Zeb said, wheeling about. He slipped from the saddle and put up his arm for Caro. Something in me hoped he would not be strong enough to support her, but she got down leaning heavily on his shoulder. I too dismounted, hearing my legs crack as I put foot to ground. We tied our beasts to a thorn bush.
Caro sat on the ground shuddering, her face cupped in her hands. At last she lowered her fingers, sliding them along her arms for warmth, and I saw the bandage was