Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,65
in the lee of a larger house than the rest. There was nothing beyond it but the open country again, with trees scattered singly mainly oak and beech. There was no shelter to be found for three horses and riders out there.
Jervis had dismounted and stood at the corner of the house. He peered cautiously round the corner, then drew his head back again. Turning, he grinned up at them, spreading his arms wide and shrugging his shoulders.
"No men, no horses!" he said. "It is as calm as the Sabbath out there."
"It doesn’t sound very calm to me," retorted Judith. "The whole place is in complete uproar."
She was right. The shouting, squealing and barking was still going on. They stood quietly where they were, hidden by the house. The pigs stopped first, then the dogs’
barking became more infrequent. The three fugitives could hear men’s voices coming closer, then the first face peered cautiously round the side of the building. It was a young boy of about ten.
"Good day, young man!" said Jervis, with a winning smile.
The young man, after a doubtful pause, smiled shyly back, and disappeared suddenly.
In his place, came an adult version so startlingly similar that it could only be his father.
He came right round the corner and stood staring at them, hands on hips in an unsuccessful attempt to look confident.
"Well, my masters," he said, truculently. "What have you done, that you must run and hide?"
Jervis, drawing on his skill at getting himself out of awkward situations, spoke for them all.
"We have done nothing," he said.
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"What!" said the other man. "Do you always take your leave of a place by being chased out of it?"
Jervis shook his head.
"We were not chased from it," he said. "We left of our own accord."
"And the people behind you were an escort to see you safely away, I suppose?" said the man.
Jervis’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
"As you say, sir," he replied gravely. "And now that they are sure that we are indeed on our way, we must continue."
The man stared at him suspiciously, but Jervis stared back, saying nothing. Behind him, Aaron and Judith gazed at the ground, and tried not to laugh. Jervis bowed politely, then turned back to the other two.
"Come!" he said, briskly. "we have some miles to go before we may rest again."
He remounted, waiting while the other two did the same.
"Good day to you!" he said to the man, as he turned the horse back on to the way which they had been following.
They walked the horses past the man and away from the sheltering house. The entire village seemed to have gathered in front of them. Wordlessly, the group of about fifty men, women and children gazed at the three travellers. They shuffled out of the way as the horses passed through the gap, but nobody said a word. It was a strange, blank silence, as though the effort of thinking who these strangers might be, or how they got there was too much for the brains of those who watched them.
Judith rode between Aaron and Jervis, as they went single file, at a steady walk, along the track between the huts. The last one was well behind them before anyone spoke.
"Will we be followed again?" said Judith. "Do you think anyone from there will take a message back to the Priory?"
Jervis shook his head.
"I think all they want is a quiet life," he said. "And I don’t think anyone there will think that they should take a message to anyone in the Priory. Speak when spoken to is their level, I should think."
"Ye-es," said Judith, slowly. "You’re probably right. But I shall be glad when we are farther away. I think we should travel faster than this."
"We need to, in any case, if we are to reach Lewes tonight," said Jervis.
"Will we get there so soon?" said Aaron. "I thought we were still some way from there."
"We are," said Jervis. "But not too far for three good riders on three good horses to get there just in time to beat the gateman. Follow me!"
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He kicked at the horse, which broke into a gallop. The other two followed his example, and the three of them raced along the hard track, as though, once again they were fleeing from pursuit.
* * *
In Merton Priory, a furious Roger de Tourney raged at his men.
"How could they get away from you?" he shouted. His face, red with anger, and with eyes blazing, was thrust