Second Night (49 page)

Nevertheless she took the long route, driving north of the village and approaching the manor where the road hugged the west wall, running due south until the bend just before the main entrance to the estate. She sped around the corner and saw a black car with tinted windows indicating to turn at the gates. The timing was perfect.

As the gates parted, she put her foot down, missed the Beast by a whisker and gunned the car through the entrance, kicking up the gravel all the way along the drive. The Beast roared after her, headlights blazing. When she saw Caz in the yard she jammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a shuddering halt on the cobbles. The Beast skidded into the space beside the barn.

Lauren jumped out of the car but she hadn't counted on the horses being allowed to run free. Freyja barred the way, snorting. Her ears were laid flat, her teeth bared. Rúna and Nanna crowded around, jostling the unwelcome intruder who came without grace into their territory. They were big, angry and dangerous.

She cried out, ‘Get them away from me!'

Caz flashed the silent command. The mares drew back. He sat astride his huge, pale horse, impassive. Lauren had the space to say everything she needed to say, but the compassion in the filly's steady gaze took the words out of her mouth. She was amazing, as Kerys had said, and they were amazing together. That much was true. Whether he would give up his life for her, Lauren preferred to doubt.

She felt belittled. He was always making her look foolish. She had no place here. Maybe that's what he'd been trying to tell her? But he hadn't told her and that was still a problem.

She looked up at him. ‘Why?' she asked pathetically.

‘You know why,' he answered.

She shook her head. ‘I don't. You have to tell me. You owe it to me.'

‘I owe you nothing.'

The filly turned away. The mares followed, trotting quickly past the house.

Lauren shouted after him, her voice harsh and shrill in defeat. ‘You won't be satisfied until you find someone as damaged as yourself! And will that make you happy? I don't think so!'

The yard was empty but she was not alone. Jasper stood with his arms folded, blocking the path with Sara and Melanie. An old man wearing an eyepatch levelled a gun at her head from the steps. Tristan and Laurence waited behind her.

Her eyes black with rage, she screamed at them just once, ‘He'll burn, and you'll burn with him!' and was gone before they had a chance to reply.

‘That wasn't very nice,' remarked Tristan.

‘Somehow, I don't think it was meant to be,' said Jasper.

‘Do you think she'll be okay?' asked Melanie.

‘Perhaps we should go after her, just to be sure?' suggested Sara.

Jasper shrugged. ‘There's no need. She'll be all right. I reckon it's time we changed the password, Loz.'

‘So what's it to be?'

‘Magicman,' said Tristan.

Jasper nodded. ‘Good one, Tris.'

Sir Jonas was not satisfied with Jasper's explanation that the invader was nothing more sinister than a well-dumped, ex-girlfriend. Someone unauthorised had been able to get through the gates. He ordered all work suspended and every member of staff summoned to the library where they were left to wait in silence until Alan arrived, and Caz had returned with the horses.

Jemima sat open-mouthed while the old man railed at them for a full half hour, letting them know in no uncertain terms what he thought of their casual attitude towards security. He admitted some excuse for the women but none for every man who had been found to be unarmed at the moment of crisis, which amounted to all of them.

‘My grandfather always said that it is the duty of every man to remain calm, clear and alert, and battle-ready at all times! You were not! In future you will not set foot on this estate unless you are fully armed with your allotted weapons and suitable means of communication. The latter applies to the women as well, including you, Madame Marguerite!'

‘So how am I supposed to work one of those pokey little phones one-handed?' she asked indignantly.

‘A temporary state of disability is no excuse! There
are
no excuses and there will be none accepted! You will remain on constant alert! That is what you are paid for and that is what I require! Any further insubordination will result in immediate dismissal!'

The tirade apparently at an end, Caz and Alan were ordered to stay behind. Caz was sent to the study. Alan was directed to stand guard in the hall and make sure the communicating doors stayed shut. The others lingered, hearing the raised voices at the far end of the house.

‘What's going on in there, Al?' asked Jasper. ‘Is the old boss losing it, or what? Why's he picking on bro like that?'

Alan shook his head dismissively. ‘He's just got himself worked up, that's all. It happens to the best of us every now and again. He'll be all right now he's got it off his chest. Don't take it to heart. It'll be all blown over by teatime.'

Jemima was still in shock. ‘But what about Caz?'

‘He can handle it.'

To all intents and purposes, Alan was right. When she answered the bell with the lunch tray, the old man was affable, even apologetic. But the afternoon ride was cancelled, the boys were sent out to patrol the boundaries and Caz remained elusive for the rest of the day.

Later, long after dark, when Lauren had finished her packing ready for the early morning departure, she heard hoofbeats. She turned off the lights, peering into the black night through a finger-width gap in the curtains. The stars were bright, enough to show up a big grey horse, but there were no hoofmarks in the driveway and no footprints over the frosty lawn. Only shadows.

She went downstairs. A small, cream-coloured envelope, sealed with red wax, had been dropped through the letterbox. She broke the seal. Caz had answered her question in sepia-toned ink on a gold-edged card:

You asked why?

You are betrayed, but not by me,

you are outdone, outworn, outmatched,

where you aimed so high;

breathless and bright-winged,

you've tumbled iron-shod,

in this shadowed world;

fine, those gauzy limbs, heart-fettered,

and mind-shackled,

will never fly.

The coppery taste of heartbreak soured her mouth. Dry-eyed, she walked into the lounge, crushing the card over and over into a tiny, angular lump that dug into her palm. She took the plate off the wood burner and held her poem over the glowing embers. It was a long time before she let it go.

While the card smouldered at the bottom of the stove, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror over the mantelpiece. Her eyes were surprisingly blue and bright. Her skin glowed. She pushed back her hair. It was silky-soft and shining. Her poem finally vanished in a tiny spurt of flame, and she smiled.

‘It's not good-bye, Ghost Rider,' she whispered. ‘I'm not through with you yet.'

She turned and left the room, shutting off the lights as she went out. The reflection in the mirror remained long enough to shape-shift before it faded… the hair lengthening and darkening… the full red lips parting over gleaming white teeth… the eyes flashing star-blue to black.

A draft moved the curtains at the window. A shadow moved under the trees at the end of the garden. A swan spread its great wings and rose up, flying east, following the line of the river towards the hills.

CHAPTER 83

The brief spell of mild, bright weather was over by Winter Solstice Eve, as Jemima decided December 20
^th
should be called. The day dawned cold and still. The sky was heavily overcast when she begged the afternoon off from the kitchen to go and help the boys cut the holly and ivy in the forest. It was a good excuse to go out on Nanna and get some space from Daisy, who had become predictably impossible to please. But this time Jemima knew with absolute certainty that it was nothing to do with her being worried about the party preparations.

She wrote in the new diary:
Whatever happens on winter solstice night scares Daisy half to death, and I want to know why!

She was not happy with the new Sir Jonas either. He took all his meals in the study and muttered to himself continually when he thought he was alone.

Sara wrote:
Sir Jonas very quiet, doesn't take any interest in the work in the library and seems to have a lot on his mind.

Jasper reported:
John and Al much quieter than usual. Haven't seen Al in the woods all week.

The door to the servants' quarters stayed locked, but Jemima had kept an eye on the chimney above the little kitchen in the housekeeper's flat. The fire was often lit by mid-afternoon, which would have made no sense at all if she hadn't known about Caz. He was tough to keep tabs on, but the others lacked the advantages of youth. They were slower on their feet and much easier to spy on. Even so, there were times when they seemed to disappear into thin air, going into the study or down to the cellars and reappearing from an entirely different direction. She decided not write anything about that in the diary.

Nanna was tacked up and Jemima was changing her boots when she heard a step in the yard. Sir Jonas was taking his afternoon walk. He was bundled up in his best winter coat, with his sword on a broad leather belt at his waist and the shotgun over his shoulder. He had a notebook in his hand. As usual he was muttering to himself, but this time he was repeating what sounded like the lines from a verse:
‘The son of a king shall be silent and wise, and bold in battle as well; bravely and gladly a man shall go, till the day of his death is come.'

He stumbled and almost fell, dropping the notebook face down on the cobbles. Jemima grabbed her skullcap and gloves and went out to confront him just as he was bending down to pick it up.

‘Hello, sir,' she said brightly.

The notebook was hastily retrieved and stuffed out of sight. The old man stammered, ‘Ah-ah, good afternoon, my dear Lady Sibylla. Are you riding?'

‘Yes. The boys are bringing in the green. I thought I'd go up and see what's going on, just in case they forget something.'

‘Very good, very good,' he said heartily. ‘I'm just about to patrol the southern boundary, but an extra pair of eyes in the forest can never go amiss. Do you have your telephone with you? Is it in good working order?'

‘Yes. I charged the battery before I came out.'

‘Excellent! Do take care. No more tumbling off.' He peered at her lip. ‘Although I must say you appear to have recovered extraordinarily well, which is quite remarkable considering the severity of the injury.'

‘Caz bought me spring water from Thunderslea and I bathed it every day.'

‘Indeed! May I assume that you are convinced of its therapeutic properties?'

‘Oh yes. Daisy drinks it every morning and she uses it in all her herb teas. I'm sure she's getting better much faster.'

‘Well, Madame Marguerite's recovery cannot come soon enough.' He lifted his hat. ‘I must get on. There's much to be done and too few of us to achieve it. Good afternoon, Lady Sibylla.'

Trotting Nanna along the tracks towards the far northeast corner of the land where Jemima knew the boys were working, she found herself thinking about Brynhilde's Spring and how the sun on the water made the blue light appear around her fingers when she dipped them in to drink. She ran her tongue over what was left of the scar on her lip.

What a shame Bryn hadn't found it before Caz cut his hand,
she thought.
What had he done to get a scar as bad as that? He lost a huge amount of blood, but was it really an accident like he said?
She remembered the look in his eyes when he made her tell about the cloak and her ceremony:
‘Gods and goddesses drive a hard bargain. We all have to pay, even the horses.'

Simply, effortlessly, her mind completed the connection.
He was sacrificing! Is that why he won't let me ride Freyja ever again?
The insight made the implication of the words Sir Jonas had been repeating seem even more ominous.
What son of what king?
she wondered.
Does he mean Caz? Does he think he's going to die tomorrow night?

She turned the mare back towards Thunderslea. ‘We're going to pray for Caz, Nanna. There's no time for a ceremony but the Goddess will hear us. I won't weep my way out of my responsibilities any more. I know about the blood and I'm part of this now, whatever Caz says. If our family is cursed, then I'm cursed too and we'll sort it out together, whether he likes it or not.'

CHAPTER 84

Alan sensed a profound change in the weather as night fell and the temperature dropped sharply to just above freezing. The cloud cover remained low and deep, and black. The instructions had been unequivocal:
‘Tonight. Bring the phone.'

He had been dreading the coming confrontation, but his mind was made up. He strapped on his sword, left Blue in the kitchen at the house and walked the Medustig alone, knowing where his loyalty lay. Nothing he would do or say would compromise the oath he had made before the God, but it was obvious that the Fate-Spinners had decided for Caz. Who was he to dispute that?

We're brothers-in-arms and sworn to win the runes. I'll do whatever it takes to clear the air between us.

Hoofbeats pounded the labyrinth and echoed in the tunnel. He stood up. The horses came galloping across the clearing to drink at the spring. Rúna called out and would have gone to him, but the warrior on the pale mare ordered her back. He was fully armed. The helm and hood concealed his face. The red shield shone in the firelight. The voice was cold. ‘Give me the phone.'

Alan handed it over without a word, watching him flick through the call list. There were only two:
John Flint, Charles Fordham-Marshall.
The telephone went into the fire. The great, black head of the spear was thrust against his throat.