‘I like the forest!’ Ninian protested sharply. ‘I’m happy with my life.’
She studied him, quite unmoved by his outburst. ‘So you might be, young Ninian, but I reckon what occurred today happened for a reason.’
He thought about it. ‘You mean it was all predestined, just to shake me out of my comfortable ways and force me to do something different?’ He spoke with heavy sarcasm, intending to make his suggestion so preposterous as to be laughable.
Tiphaine wasn’t laughing. And, as he listened to the echoes of his bitter words ringing in his head, he realized he wasn’t either.
In this place, in the depths of the wildwood and with the distillation of his mother’s strange legacy strong around him, it all sounded horribly plausible.
He had stayed with Tiphaine until dusk. Then he got up to go. She came out into the clearing with him, looking up into the night sky and sniffing the air. ‘Mars is rising,’ she observed. ‘He’ll give you courage if you set out with your head high.’ Then, to his surprise — for he had never thought her a demonstrative woman — she stepped up to him and put her arms round him in a quick, tight hug. She muttered something in a tongue he did not know, but he guessed it was a blessing. Then, without another word, she went back inside and closed the door.
He had already made up his mind where he would go. Keeping off the main tracks, he followed the faint animal trails that only he — and probably his half sister — knew. Even there, he was careful only to walk where the ground was firm and the leaf mound lay deep. As the light faded and he could no longer see clearly where he was putting his feet, he took to feeling his way with his toes. Progress was slow, but he was all but sure he was leaving no traces of his passing. Besides, he was not in a hurry. He had all night.
He was not sure he could find the place. When he knew he was near, he stopped, leaned his back against a birch tree and made himself relax. Memories returned: they were bitter-sweet, for his mother was wound up in them and, as always, bringing her to mind was both a pleasure and a deep, unhealed pain. For a moment he thought he heard her voice — you are too far to the east and should turn towards the North Star — but it was probably just his imagination.
He decided to follow the suggestion in any case. Presently, he spotted the landmark he had been searching for and a wide smile broke across his face. ‘Thank you,’ he said aloud.
Dawn was breaking now, and Ninian awoke in his secret sanctuary. The fire had died down, but its embers still glowed faintly, and it did not take him long to build it up again. Last night he had arranged the stones in a circle for his hearth, and there was plenty of dead wood around. He had cut sheaves of dead and dying bracken for his bed, and he had been warm enough. He was, however, very hungry. Tiphaine had fed him and given him what food she had, but he had not eaten a proper meal in days.
He crept out of his hiding place and located the stream that ran nearby, bending to wash his face, neck and hands, and scooping up draughts of the clean, bitingly cold water. Standing up, he made his way slowly back again, staring intently to make quite sure there was no sign of his presence. The fire was placed so that what little smoke it made was concealed, but, now that it was day, he decided to let it die down. If Josse came looking, he would need no pointer to tell him where Ninian was. Or so he hoped…
Josse woke in the thin light of the pre-dawn from a dream he could not recall. Vivid in his mind, however, was the elusive memory that he had tried to pin down the night before.
There was no time to waste. He got out of bed and swiftly dressed, drawing on his boots and reaching for his cloak. The place he was going to was secret, and he must on no account give its location away by leaving tracks or inadvertently leading someone else there. He felt reasonably safe. None of his own household was awake yet — not that they posed any threat — and he did not think any search parties would be about so early. It was, after all, only just getting light.
He hurried out to the yard and, greeting Alfred, put bridle and saddle on him and led him out of the stable. Mounting, he urged him forward and set off. He briefly wondered if he should take Ninian’s horse with him, and the pack he had prepared, but he decided against it. He might be wrong — although he didn’t think so — and, besides, he knew Ninian would not leave without saying goodbye.
Josse thought he would remember the way without difficulty, but he was wrong. It was not far short of twenty years since he had first been taken there, and at the time he had been suffering from the after-effects of a blow to the head. He had been tended by a small boy, and the two of them had forged a deep bond which existed to this day. Now, his desperate need both driving him on and making him too tense to calm down and concentrate, he reined in and swore softly under his breath with frustration.
He would not find it standing still, he thought. Nudging Alfred, keeping to the side of the narrow, winding path so as not to leave hoof prints, he rode slowly on. The trail climbed up a slight rise, and he heard the sound of running water.
He stopped, dismounted and, leading Alfred, went for some way along the top of the ridge, looking intently down to the left. He came to a place where the stream he had heard ran through a shallow valley. There was no track down there now, although he thought he remembered that once there had been. He tethered Alfred and climbed carefully down into the valley. He was looking for a spot where a large ledge of sandstone stuck out from the side of the valley, its base concealed by a tangle of thorn bushes.
He smelt wood smoke. Only very faintly, and had he not been expecting it, he would probably have missed it. He looked around, but there was no wisp of smoke on the cold air.
He spotted an outcrop of rock. It was not precisely as he remembered, but it was worth investigating. As he drew nearer, he realized that the tangle of thorn that had once been knee high now reached up to his chest. It was the right rock, and the hiding place he sought lay beneath it.
He edged forward. Should he call out? If Ninian was within, asleep perhaps, and Josse took him by surprise, the consequences might be grave. He went right up to the sandstone and, with the hilt of his dagger, tapped lightly on the rock.
A voice behind him said, ‘I’m over here.’
Josse spun round. Ninian was emerging from beneath the down-sweeping branches of a yew. ‘I had to be careful,’ he began. ‘I don’t think anyone else knows about my old camp, but you can’t be too careful. I-’
He didn’t get any further. With a soft cry, Josse bounded over to him and took him in his arms. After a moment Ninian eased himself away and stood smiling up at Josse. ‘You found me,’ he said. ‘I thought you would. Come inside.’ He pushed aside the stiff and viciously-barbed branches of thorn and revealed the hidden entrance.
Crouching down, Josse went in, Ninian right behind. Josse straightened up and looked around him. The small space was just as he had remembered, although the withies woven between the posts that formed the walls were sagging and there were large gaps. But Ninian had made the place neat, and there was a fire dying in the hearth.
Josse turned to him, slowly nodding. ‘I lay there, beside the fire, which was exactly where it is now,’ he said.
Ninian grinned. ‘I used the same stones. Although several of them had become dislodged by the wild animals, they were still pretty much where I left them. I don’t believe anyone’s been here since you and I last visited. Nobody will find me here.’
The last comment jerked Josse back to the present. It was all very well indulging a fond memory, but Ninian was in danger. ‘You can’t stay here,’ he said, rather too brusquely. ‘They will find you, Ninian, for the crimes of which you stand accused are very serious.’