Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,64

had acquired them, or the saddles and bridles with which they were furnished. They rode quietly towards the gatehouse, with Jervis slightly behind her and Aaron beside her. To the casual onlooker, they were two young men of the King s party, accompanied by a manservant, going for an exploratory ride in the surrounding countryside. But underneath their placid exterior, all three were tense, waiting for the shout which would raise the alarm behind them.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Judith was convinced, afterwards, that the few seconds it took for the three of them to ride through the gatehouse and into the road were the longest she ever endured. The skin between her shoulders crawled and she could feel the hairs on the nape of her neck prickling. She looked nervously across at Aaron, who rode with his back as straight as it could possibly be. His lips were pressed firmly together, and he looked directly in front of him. On the other side, when she looked that way from under her eyelashes, she could see that even Jervis FitzHugh looked solemn for once.

Then they were out and riding back along the road which they had travelled with the King and his court, less than two hours earlier. She eased her aching shoulders, and let the reins slacken in her hands. The other two kept their upright carriage, but she slumped slightly, relief making her feel weak. They had covered about half a mile, the road still straight ahead of them, when the shout which they had dreaded sounded behind them.

Jervis twisted in his saddle and looked back.

Behind him, he could see a figure gesticulating in the arch of the gatehouse. An arm was flung outward, a head bobbed up and down furiously, then the man disappeared. Jervis kicked his horse into a gallop.

Aaron followed his example and Judith, nearly losing her seat in her efforts to control her excited horse, was after them in seconds. Gathering the reins again, she urged the horse forward with a squeeze of her legs, rather than a kick. Unnerved by the sudden movement on either side, it needed no more urging, but thundered after the other two.

She snatched a backward glance herself, to see the first of a stream of horses pouring out of the Priory gate. There seemed to be ten or more of them, although it was difficult to tell in the short time she had to look back. Then she was straining forward again, as the three of them galloped as fast as they could to escape. If leaving caused such a response, being captured would mean incarceration in a less pleasant part of the Priory such as the mortuary.

The road they were on branched, and Jervis led them off to the right. She had no idea where they were, or what might lie ahead. She supposed that Aaron was as ignorant as she about their surroundings. All they could do was trust Jervis FitzHugh to lead them away from their hunters and into a safe place. At least they were still on a well-marked highway, and not wandering about in the awful marshes which had so nearly taken his life. The ground was hard under the horses’ hooves, and the grass on either side was sparse and trampled by many travellers. It was obviously a main route to the Priory but from where?

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Belaset’s Daughter

There was no time for wondering: all her concentration and energy were needed to control the horse in this mad, headlong flight. If it stumbled now if any of them stumbled it would

mean the end of any chance of escape. She gritted her teeth, and kicked the horse’s flanks. It responded by stretching its neck and straining to gallop even faster. She was aware of Jervis ahead of her, and Aaron beside her. The three of them swept on, the sound of the horses’ thundering hooves and harsh breathing filling the air.

She was aware of her fear, of speed, of noise, and the smell of sweat and leather. Every sense was strained to its fullest pitch. In her mind there was nothing but one long wordless scream.

They were passing through some kind of small settlement. Vaguely, she was aware of buildings and heard squeals from pigs, a dog barking, and the rough shouting of men, mingled with the higher pitched voices of women. At the other end of the village, Jervis turned his horse to one side, and the other two followed suit. He had stopped them