‘But how long? How long till she heals?’

‘I cannot say. Your sister seems strong in her body, but who can say what is going on in a child’s mind – in anyone’s mind? Give her time.’ He stretched himself out on his cloak and dragged it over his shoulders. ‘Get to sleep as soon as you can. We’ll be on the move at first light.’

An owl hooted, and the she-wolf watched until the humans’ stirrings ceased. The smell of fear thickened, and by it the wolf knew that the child was not asleep. Curious, and certain now that the interlopers intended her no harm, the wolf watched, and waited. The smell of another’s fear was a potent attraction.

The little girl stirred and sat up. Next to her, the woman sighed in her sleep, but she did not waken. The child got to her feet and began walking in a line that would lead her directly to the wolf. The wolf tensed, not to spring, for she was not hungry, but ready to fly for cover.

‘Katarin,’ the solitary man was awake, ‘where are you going?’

The wind shook the leaves and there was silence.

The solitary man sighed, got up, and walked through the coal-black night to where the child hovered on the edge of the clearing. He stopped not three feet away from the wolf’s twitching nose. Close up, the toes of his boots were shiny and polished. ‘Can’t you sleep, Katarin?’ he asked, gently.

Doubtfully, the girl shook her head.

The man lowered himself to the child’s level, and made his voice smile, ‘Are you afraid?’

The shake was more positive.

‘Not afraid, eh?’ The man gave an amused snort. ‘You’re braver than I would be in your shoes, Katarin. Perhaps you are cold?’

The child considered this, and nodded.

‘So am I, Katarin. And I’m lonely on my own. Come, you’ll be warmer with me. Would you like to sleep with me?’ He held his palm out towards her, and the child took it without hesitating.

‘Sensible girl,’ the man murmured, and picking her up, he carried her back to his cloak.

The smell of fear was diffused now, broken up by the breeze. The she-wolf’s milk-filled teats reminded her of her young, and she crept soundlessly away. When she had put a good distance between her and the interlopers, she stood upright and raced off, a dark streak in a darker night, to see her cubs were safe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was cool under the heavy canopy of leaves, and as the bridleway was nothing more than a slender brown ribbon winding gently through a sea of foaming bracken, they had to ride in single file. Alan sat easily in his saddle. As guide he took the leader’s place. Gwenn, riding Dancer, came second – she carried her brother before her. Ned brought up the rear with Katarin. The monks’ best saddle had been put on Dancer, and Ned was left battling with a broken-down saddle he reckoned old enough to have seen service at Hastings. Its frame was cracked, and every time the mule put down a hoof, Ned felt the jarring right up his spine. It was uncomfortable for him and no doubt for the mule too, which might explain the animal’s reluctance to keep up with the others. The cantle of the saddle had had all the stuffing knocked out of it, and the skirt lay flat on the mule’s back, but at the moment this was serving them well, for Katarin sat behind her brother-in-law, hands hooked round his belt.

‘Ned, are you alright?’ Gwenn reined in, and waited for her husband to catch up.

Jabbing in his heels, Ned tried to squeeze another few paces out of his reluctant steed. ‘I’m considering throwing this saddle away. I might make better progress bareback.’

‘But what about Katarin?’

‘That’s a point; I doubt she’d stay on without a saddle.’ He twisted round to reassure himself that his silent companion was as comfortable as possible, and was rewarded with a vague smile. ‘Good girl,’ he murmured, ‘you’re doing well.’

Waiting till Ned’s mule reached Dancer’s hindquarters, Gwenn lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Ned, there’s something I’d like you to keep from Alan.’

‘Keep from Alan?’ At this point the mule let out a bray of protest and, digging in its hoofs, refused to budge.

‘I...I don’t want him to know I’ve got the Stone Rose with me. You won’t tell him, will you?’

Ned laboured away with his heels, with little effect on the recalcitrant mule. ‘Why should I tell him? It’s not the sort of thing it would occur to me to mention to Alan.’

‘I know. But I...I don’t want Alan discovering it’s in your pack. You’ll keep it from him, won’t you?’

Ned threw her a puzzled glance, and tried shaking his mount’s reins. ‘Aye, but–’

‘Ned, please.’

‘I won’t mention it if you don’t want me to,’ he said, exasperated and panting with his effort on the mule. The animal was rolling its eyes and champing on its bit, and it would not take a step. ‘Christ, this animal’s got a hide of iron.’ Ned swore and clambered from the saddle. ‘I’ll walk.’

Alan hailed them from the front. ‘What’s going on?’

Gwenn urged Dancer through plumes of green bracken towards Alan.

‘It’s Ned’s mule,’ she explained when she reached him. ‘It won’t keep up.’

‘I’ll take Katarin, if that helps.’

‘You would?’

‘You have kept your low opinion of me, I think,’ Alan said in a soft, intimate voice.

Gwenn floundered under the cool, grey gaze, and the memory of the promise she had just extracted from Ned stung her to an instant denial that betrayed her true feelings better than she knew. ‘No. No!’

‘You always disliked me, didn’t you, mistress?’

‘Disliked you?’ Gwenn looked nonplussed. ‘I don’t dislike you.’ Her voice had a ring of truth to it, for though she did not entirely trust him, there had always been a spark of something between them.

‘But it galls you to accept my help.’

‘No. Alan, I am grateful.’ At that moment, a golden rod of light fell through the branches, bathing Alan’s head with a halo of brightness. His hair assumed the blue-black sheen of a raven’s wing, and for an instant his slate-coloured eyes sparkled with a clarity which more than equalled the brilliance of the gem in the Stone Rose.

Gwenn blinked. The effect of the sunlight on his countenance when all else was in shadow was extraordinary. It made her feel as though she could see to the heart of the man, even perhaps to his soul. As she gazed into eyes that were no longer unfathomable but clear as crystal, she became aware of a curling in her stomach, akin to embarrassment. It was as though she was seeing something very private, something which belonged to Alan alone and yet which attracted her very much. There was a part of Alan le Bret which she yearned to reach out for, which she yearned to cherish... Then Firebrand took a step, the light shifted, and Alan’s eyes looked the way they always did, remote and cloudy with shadows. She was left struggling with a deep, inexplicable sense of loss.

‘Mistress?’

‘I...I beg your pardon?’

‘I offered to lighten Ned’s load and take Katarin.’

‘My thanks, cousin.’ Ned had caught up, mule and Katarin in tow. He rubbed the base of his spine and gave an expressive grimace. ‘But I’m better walking.’

Alan frowned at the mule. ‘I should never have allowed myself to be persuaded to act as your guide. I hope that monk gets my message to Duke Geoffrey. I risk losing the best place I ever had as it is, without that obstinate animal delaying me further. It’s a long way to Ploumanach, cousin. Can you keep pace all the way?’

‘I’m not yet doddering, I can keep going for miles.’ Ned grinned. ‘Perhaps when I tire you can take my place.’

Alan favoured Gwenn with a slow, considering look which brought the hot blood rushing to her cheeks, and sent sinful thoughts scurrying where they had no place to be. ‘Take your place when you tire, Ned?’ he mused, wickedly. ‘I think I should enjoy that.’

Lifting her chin, and still trying to grasp exactly what it was she had seen in Alan’s eyes, Gwenn clutched her brother to her breast. How was it that one moment the Duke’s captain could rouse feelings of great tenderness in her, and the next moment she could cheerfully strangle him? She wondered if Ned would react badly to Alan’s provocative remark.