‘He won’t be able to keep up with the horses,’ Berden said. ‘Not at the pace we’ll be going at.’
‘I’ll have to carry him,’ I said. ‘Is there any more rope?’
‘A length here.’ He handed it to me.
I led Hector over to a large stone and used that to mount, for there was no mounting block. ‘Pass the dog up to me,’ I said.
‘He’ll bite me.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Nervously, Berden lifted the dog, who accepted it docilely, and laid him in front of me, across Hector’s withers. I wound the rope around my waist, then several times around the dog and knotted it firmly. It was a very makeshift harness, but there was no time for anything else. Berden was mounted and turning his horse impatiently back towards the road we had followed earlier that day.
‘Hurry, Kit!’
‘I am ready now.’
Berden had the candle lantern in his hand, which gave little enough light, but with that, together with the poor illumination that came from the moon whenever it peered out from behind the clouds, we found the road.
‘We’ll have to risk a canter at least,’ he said, ‘but we dare not gallop, not on this road, not until there is more light.’
‘Aye.’ I was having difficulty, needing to reach my arms round the large dog to hold the reins, but I could not leave him behind. ‘Back to Amsterdam? Or do you want to stay longer near the Spanish lines?’
‘No. I think we have discovered enough for Walsingham’s purposes. Clearly the peasants in this area are of doubtful loyalty, ready to go over to the Spanish. We’ll ride back until we reach the ship canal, pick up any despatches from the Earl, then make for the coast.’
With that he turned and kicked Redknoll into a canter. Hector and I, and the dog, were close on his heels.
Chapter Eleven
We rode as fast as we dared, and in silence, until we were well clear of the village, then Berden reined in Redknoll and I stopped beside him. The dog was slipping sideways off Hector, so I heaved him back into place. Despite his large frame, he was much lighter than he should have been and I could feel his ribs and the knobs of his spine. I tightened the rope that held us together and tried to make him more comfortable. He licked my hand, but seemed very feeble. His attack on the man with the sword had taken the last of his strength.
‘I hope we have done enough to satisfy Sir Francis,’ I said, still somewhat breathless after what had happened. ‘I am not trained to fight. Wounding that man in the arm was pure chance.’
‘You did well,’ Berden said. ‘Unfortunately I did less well. While you were inside, the man on the ground managed to reach his knife and slashed me before I could disarm him.’
‘What!’ I cried. ‘You are wounded? Why have you said nothing?’
‘It was more urgent to get away before they returned with soldiers. It’s not deep, I think.’
‘You must let me see to it,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. We cannot afford the time to delay. It is my left arm. It will keep until we are further on our way.’
‘Then let us hurry.’
We set off again. Although we had made a good start, I found myself straining my ears for any sound of pursuit. Nothing to be heard yet, but for how long? There was no other road north from the village. Any pursuers had no need even to follow our tracks, they had only to keep to the same road. After a short while, Berden halted again.
‘This candle is nearly burnt out. Have you more?’
‘Aye.’ I twisted round and dug my hand into my saddlebag to unbuckle my satchel. When I passed a fresh candle to Berden he was able to light it just before the stump went out. He fixed the new candle in the lantern and we rode on.
The next time we eased to a walk, to give the horses some rest, I asked, ‘What shall we do? Will it not be dangerous to sleep at the inns where we stayed before?’
He thought for a moment before replying.
‘You are right. It might be. We do not know how far this disaffection, this treason, extends.’
‘We cannot ride for three days without a break,’ I said. ‘The horses hardly had time to rest tonight.’
‘Aye. We may need to rough it.’
‘Sleep in the open? We will freeze.’
‘Or a barn or a sheep fold.’ I could just make out his wry grin in the lantern light. ‘The life of one of Walsingham’s agents is not always a comfortable inn and a private chamber with its own fire.’
I grinned back. ‘So I am learning.’
We rode on at a steady pace as the moon disappeared, first behind clouds and then below the horizon. The loss of moonlight made it feel colder and I was glad of the small warmth of the dog against my stomach and chest. The faint glimmer of the candle lantern in Berden’s hand was the only means of lighting our way, though by now our eyes had adjusted to the dark.
After what seemed an interminable night, the sky began to lighten. Dawn could not be far off. We crossed a bridge that I remembered from our southward journey.
‘The last inn we stayed at was not far from here,’ I said. It was strange to hear my own voice, for neither of us had spoken for several hours.
‘Aye, it was.’
‘I think we should stop there for a meal,’ I said, ‘and feed the horses, before we carry on. If we are pursued this far, it will be no mystery for them to know that we have passed this way, for there is no other. We need not stay long, but the horses must rest and eat.’ I also intended to see to the wound in his arm, but I did not say so.
‘You are right,’ he conceded. ‘We will eat and rest the horses.’
It must have been more than an hour before we reached the inn, further than I remembered, but by then the sun was up and there was a chance we would be able to have a meal.
It was a humble place, but compared with the squalor of last night, it was a palace. Berden went in to order us a meal, while I saw to the horses. By bribing the stable boy with a few coins, I got oats for the horses as well as hay. After rubbing them both down and putting on their blankets, I left them to rest and went into the inn through the stable yard door, carrying our saddle bags. The dog had lain exhausted in the straw, but now he dragged himself to his feet and followed me.
Berden was in the small parlour, where a fire had been lit and was beginning to burn through. There were two mugs of beer on the table, and a bowl of water for the dog, which he drank thirstily.
‘I have bespoke a stewed lamb’s shank for us and some scraps for the dog,’ Berden said. ‘And the inn wife was already baking fresh bread.’
‘We should ask for food to carry with us as well,’ I said, ‘to see us through the rest of the day.’
He nodded agreement. I unbuckled my satchel and probed about in it until I could get my fingers around the wallet of medicines in the bottom and draw it out. It had lain there undisturbed since we had left London.
‘What is that?’ Berden asked.
‘Medical supplies. I never travel without them. I want to look at your arm.’
‘Oh, very well.’
He sighed, but removed his doublet and rolled up his left sleeve. Now that there was plenty of light, I saw that both were torn and blood stained. I went to fetch water from the kitchen, which I told them to boil, then carried it carefully back to the parlour.
‘The smells in the kitchen promise well,’ I said, as I began to clean the wound.
He ventured a smile, but then gritted his teeth. Despite his dismissal of the wound as minor, I could see that it was giving him a good deal of pain. Like any knife wound, it was quite narrow, but it was also deep, running from his elbow to just above his wrist, and the skin around the wound was already enflamed. The knife had driven grit and dirt into the broken flesh and it took me some while to clean it all out. Neither of us spoke while I worked. When I was satisfied that it was clean, I spread it with a salve of honey, beeswax and comfrey.