a better figurehead than a cripple,’ Tubal said without rancour.
‘Just you be careful, woman,’ Brocky told her gruffly. ‘No call to get yourself killed. And if it’s a trap . . .’
‘Then I’ll be on horseback, at night. Even their rifles can’t make a man see in the dark.’
And there came a knock, almost a scratching, at the door.
Emily stood up, heels sharply together, military fashion, and clasped her helm under her arm before walking to the door.
There, out in the dark, was a small man whose clothes of hardwearing cloth and leather were threadbare, even a little ragged. His thin face flinched back from her, as though this scene of house, cards, friends and uniform was too glaring to look at directly.
‘You’re the Marshwic. I know you,’ he said softly, appraising her in his sidelong fashion. ‘You’re a picture, and no mistake. I can see why there’s all the talk about you. You really fought, did you, at the Levant?’
‘Do you doubt it?’
He shrugged with first one shoulder, then the other. ‘Oh, you know. Precious few of the posh families sent their own out to fight, but I reckon you went. I believe it now. You’re to come with me, Lieutenant, if you will.’
Emily glanced back at the others and saw Tubal spread his hands. What else can I do? she reflected. I am committed now.
‘Your name?’ she asked the little man.
‘Soldier-at-Arms Derry Balfor. I fought in the Couchant, Lieutenant. I saw what those devils did there.’
‘And you’re not ready to give up the fight?’ she said.
‘Got nothing else, Lieutenant. They hauled me out of the jails to fight that war. If’n we’d won I’d be a hero, no more hard times, but we didn’t. We lost, and so what’s for me now? It’s the army or the cells again, sooner or later. So I ain’t giving up nothing.’
‘You’re a credit to your King,’ remarked Emily drily. ‘I suppose you’d better lead the way, Soldier Balfor.’
‘That I shall, Lieutenant.’ The little man scuttled out into the yard, where the light from the kitchen door was catching the first few raindrops. He vaulted easily on to a tall horse that was of far finer quality than Emily would have expected for such a man, and she fetched from the stables the mount she had instructed Grant to saddle.
Balfor was already riding out of the yard and, from his ease in the saddle, she guessed he might have been jailed for horse theft, and that perhaps he was still keeping his hand in.
What else is there? she asked herself. And then: How could it come to this? No answers were to be had, so she swung herself up into the saddle and nudged her horse to follow Balfor’s mount.
It was a slow progress in the dark, even though Balfor obviously knew his way well enough. Oddly, Emily felt she knew it too, for the path that Balfor took seemed familiar even in the darkness. He had turned off into the woods as soon as he could, lighting up a lantern which he held out to one side for her to follow, changing arms every ten minutes or so. The lamp guttered erratically and there was little cheer in it. All around them the rain pattered down on the summer woodland canopy, drops pooling together above to drip down onto them, whilst the horses made patient and cautious progress over ground that was laced with roots. To Emily it was all a minor hindrance. Who could curse the tame forests of Lascanne after enduring the swampy jungles of the Levant.
‘How did you serve at the Couchant, Balfor?’ she asked.
His reply drifted back to her. ‘They had me loading the artillery, Lieutenant. That’s why I reckon I’m still here. Where the horses got cut to bits, us artillery lads knew it was a bad job and most of us pulled out before their bloody muskets got us within good range.’
‘I’ve heard about what happened at the Couchant.’
‘Sure you have, Lieutenant, but, if you don’t mind me saying it, there’s no way you can imagine it unless you was there.’
And, as he led her deeper into the woods, she caught hold of the familiarity that had been dogging her. She had ridden a very similar course to this one, so long ago. Had it only been last year, when the Ghyer was on her doorstep with poor fool Alice in his clutches? She and Grant had taken this path, and she shuddered now to