Chapter 16 #3
The lands surrounding the manor were rich garden furrows of root vegetables and lush, fruit orchards.
In the distance, sheep huddled together in a large cluster of white and the soft, satisfied lowing of cattle came from the byres attached to the crofts.
A mill with its distinctive waterwheel stood near the river.
All was only a short walk down the grassy hillside.
There was not much distance between her and the guards.
Still, leaving the money made her feel less guilty.
What she could see of the manor house up the slight hill was impressive, with a Norman glass lancet on the top floor set inside thick window buttresses and stone walls. A thin thread of pale smoke came from the thumb-like shadow of the closest chimney above the pattern of roof tiles.
Some wealthy noble’s hunting lodge? Its position sat near the Great Forest which was filled with wild boar, pheasant, hare, and hart.
A few guards walked out the gates and stood on the hillside for interminably long moments. Had they seen her? She dared not move. Perhaps she should have waited longer.
Certainly she’d had plenty of close calls, the last one when she’d barely managed to cross the peaty slough to the north of Inverness and escape into the shadows of the trees before himself, Sir Naked-in-the-Road and his troop thundered past, heading like fire for the northeast. A few heartbeats less or had she merely made one stop to rest and she would have been crossing the meadow and out in the open as they came around a hill, stirring up red dust like a wind spout.
She tucked the money pouch into her tunic and then froze. One of the manor’s guards shouted to a dog.
Oh lud! Would they send a dog or pack of hunting dogs to search outside? A nobleman’s trained hound could easily catch her scent, bark and give her away, or worse yet, follow her.
The racing shadow of a large hound scurried around the guards in playful circles and then disappeared inside the gates chasing the stick, while the guards laughed and followed it inside, stopping to stand just inside the wall.
Rain began to splatter down in huge, hard drops and glimpses of silvery moonlight snaked downward through holes in the thick, roiling night clouds.
A gust of wind swirled and curled by. Still talking, the guards moved back inside, so she crouched up and scurried to the closest fruit tree, grabbed some low-hanging plums and quickly slipped back down the damp hillside, disappearing into the great wide forests that ran between the lowland glens and high granite crags.
She followed the deep path she had taken earlier into the fecund depths of trees, where fallen leaves and mulched ground swallowed the sound of her footsteps, and the air carried the thick taste of dark, dank moss and fallen needles.
Overhead, light shot down as the moon came out from the clouds as big and bright as a silver coin, but she could still hear the patter of the rain hitting the ground behind her and, as she moved deeper, a slim scattering of raindrops hitting the sky-high crowns of the forest trees.
The small clearing was dark, but Skye stood contentedly tied to a tree and turned her big eyes on Glenna as she came through the bushes and flung the bag on her saddle. She turned, frowning. “Fergus?”
He was not by the tree where she’d left him.
Squinting slightly, she scoured the area, hoping with a suddenly wan heart that he was only a few feet away. “Fergus!” she whispered harshly.
Oh, no! Glenna untied Skye and pulled her along as she half ran back towards the edges of the forest. Before she ever reached the rim, her worst fears were realized when chaos sounded from the manor. Chickens loudly squawking and sounding worse than a cockfight. Men shouting.
The moon was bright now and the clouds and rain had moved passed, carried away on the high whipping wind.
Grasses swayed slightly and took on a new color as their dew and dampness glowed slivery in the moonlight.
There were few shadows for hiding, just the light illuminating the land and gardens and trees, even the faces of the guards at the manor.
Just then, Fergus came racing out of the manor, squawking chicken in his mouth as he sped down the slope low and as if his tail were on fire.
Her heart sank when a man came out on the heels of her dog, carrying a torch in one hand and a raised sword in the other, followed by another guard, and a bowman, too, as dark arrows began to shoot down from just outside the manor’s wall.
She heard the men shouting orders into the wind in what had been a silent, quiet night.
Her eyes stayed with her dog. She dared not step into the open to be seen so easily and he was headed too far west. Quickly she mounted, then turned Skye westward, leaned low over the saddle, ready to run, and she gave a single, sharp, piercing whistle.
Fergus changed directions in a heartbeat, scampering towards her. She waited until he was close and she kicked Skye forward and out of the thick trees, where she was free to run hard, Fergus at their heels, and she rode like the wind along the dark line of the forest.
An arrow shot past her shoulder to hit the trunk of a nearby tree with a singing sound. Another whizzed by her ear. And another.
She spotted a clearing between some of the forest trees and headed straight for it, disappearing into the dark trees, slowing to a canter as she heard another arrow hit nearby and another to the east of her.
She all but lay on the horse’s neck, snapping her fingers to keep Fergus at her side and still riding hard as the trees grew thicker and more protected and the skies overhead were black from the hidden moon.
Fergus yelped.
She turned in the saddle, looking back.
He was still with her, but his lope was slowing, chicken dead and hanging limply from his mouth and a trail of moulting feathers drifting to the ground behind him, and a deadly looking arrow was sticking out of his bloody side.