over the flat lands towards the sea. They were ghostly shapes beneath the stars, fetlock deep in soft white mist.
‘How will we catch them?’ Luned breathed, awed by their ethereal beauty.
‘I’ll do it.’ Eleyne slid her bundle to the ground. She reached for the two plaited girdles she had brought to act as halters, realising that the harness rooms would be too securely locked to reach without waking someone; these would have to do. Gathering her skirts, she climbed lightly over the gate and began to walk across the dew-soaked grass. Luned watched her, a slight figure, no more than a shadow in the starlight, moving silently through the mist.
One horse spotted her and then the others. They raised their heads, ears pricked, and watched as she drew near. Luned heard a whicker in the darkness and she smiled; they would not be able to resist her. What horse ever could? Sure enough, in seconds they were gathering around her, nuzzling her hands as she selected two and slipped the girdles around their necks. Like a virgin capturing unicorns, Luned thought. They were coming now, a horse on each side of her, the others behind, inquisitive, light-footed, manes and tails flowing.
Swiftly Luned strung their two bundles together to go across her horse’s withers. She pulled open the gate as Eleyne led their mounts through, and shut it to stop the rest of the animals following.
Her slim wrists moving deftly in the darkness, Eleyne knotted headcollars for the horses and helped Luned to mount from the gate, then she jumped astride her own, a light-footed silver mare, part of the starlight itself.
‘We’ll take the mountain road,’ she called, ‘and then we’ll make for Scotland.’
Suddenly she laughed out loud.
V
Rhonwen stared out across the rooftops of Chester and sighed. The embroidery on which she had been working lay on the table behind her, the silks and needles and shears all jumbled in a heap. Her head was splitting.
The old Countess of Chester looked up. ‘They will find her, my dear. She cannot have got far, you know.’ She glanced almost reproachfully at the door of the solar and frowned; behind it stood one of the king’s guards.
Returning to Chester without Eleyne, Stephen had put the whole castle on alert and more or less imprisoned those of the earl’s and countess’s personal household who remained. The castle flew the king’s standard now, and the day-to-day administration was in the hands of Stephen and his two colleagues. John de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, had been made constable of the castle.
It had not taken them long to find that Rhonwen was Eleyne’s particular confidante, and even less time to assimilate the interesting information that she was a wanted murderess and a heretic. But they were biding their time. She could not go anywhere. All the women were imprisoned, and she might in some way hold a clue to Eleyne’s destination.
Stephen had sent riders in every direction when Eleyne’s flight had been discovered and had guards patrolling all the roads south. He knew the way her mind was working. She would try to reach her uncle and beg him to change his mind. He had expected to catch up with her within hours, but to his fury she and her companion had completely disappeared, and with her two of the prince’s best horses.
‘Sit down, my dear.’ Countess Clemence’s voice was surprisingly firm. ‘Don’t let that boorish man see that you are upset. He will be here in a minute.’ She pushed Rhonwen’s embroidery towards her. ‘You do know where she’s gone, don’t you?’ she asked quietly.
Rhonwen shrugged. ‘I can guess.’
‘Is it Scotland?’ The dowager smiled. ‘I know dear John was always so in love with the place. I cannot believe he didn’t infect her with his own longing. And Alexander would shield her against Henry’s ridiculous schemes.’
Rhonwen glanced warily around the table. The other women were listening, and any one of them might betray Eleyne.
‘I don’t know, my lady, I really don’t. There are so many people who would take her in. People right here in Chester. He will never find her once she is among friends.’
‘She is indeed much loved.’ Clemence nodded. ‘Poor child, she must have been so disappointed to find she was not going to have John’s child. That was a cruel trick of fate.’
‘Indeed.’ Rhonwen nodded meekly. ‘I was very sad when I heard the news.’ Eleyne would reach Scotland – and then she would send for her friends.
VI
It was only when daylight came that they realised the magnitude of their task. They had to ride to Scotland, a journey which would take them many days, avoiding the main roads, avoiding towns and villages. They had no saddles or bridles for the horses, no escort, no food. They did have money, but when they stopped to use it they might be recognised. Eleyne was under no illusions. Stephen would not take her disappearance lightly. They would have had only a few hours’ start, if that, and already the king’s escort, which was to take her back to Chester, would be scouring the country for her. It was Luned, wrapped in her dark cloak, who went to lonely homestead doors and bought bread and cheese; it was Luned who, pretending she had lost her own, brought extra cloaks for them at different places along the way to protect them against the cold hard ground at night. But it was a long time before they dared to try and obtain bridles for the horses.
‘We have to try and we must hire a man to escort us,’ Eleyne commented as they rode off the path yet again and waited in the shelter of some trees as a wagon rumbled past. ‘Like this, we attract too much attention.’
‘You should have picked a less showy horse,’ Luned commented wryly. The delicate mare with her silver mane and tail had attracted many covetous stares over the past three days, as had the sight of two unescorted women riding bareback.
‘The next town we reach, you will go and buy us bridles,’ Eleyne said firmly.
‘And that will not attract attention? Me, alone, going to the harness-maker and buying two bridles?’ Luned’s voice was tart. ‘I thought we had decided that we couldn’t risk it.’
‘Not if you say they are a gift for your sweetheart,’ Eleyne said. ‘Of course, you will have to buy rather fancy ones if they are a gift, but it will be worth it, and I have the money. It must be safe to stop now. We have been riding for days and we can’t be far from the Scottish border. The last man you spoke to said we would reach Kendal soon. Let’s stop there and buy some food and two bridles.’
The route so far had been relatively easy and flat, following the road due north almost the whole way from Chester, which they had bypassed at a safe distance, but now they could see mountains to the east and north and the tracks had begun to climb. It was still early morning when Eleyne led the way off the road once more, and already it was blisteringly hot. The sun, high overhead, shone from a cloudless sky, and with relief they rode into the shade of a copse and dismounted.
‘Rest a little, then we’ll go on.’ Eleyne sat down wearily on a fallen tree, the mare’s plaited rein slack in her hand. The horse lowered her head and began to graze on the thick rich grass.
Luned glanced at her with a wave of sympathy as she tethered her own mount to a birch tree nearby. ‘You’re exhausted. Let me go into Kendal alone. It would be safer in the long run anyway. We can’t risk you being recognised now we’ve come so far.’ She saw Eleyne hesitate and, sensing victory, she went on quickly, ‘I’ll rest, then I’ll beg a ride on one of the wagons we’ve seen on the road. I can’t ride into the town without a bridle anyway
