The Silver Horse (3 page)

‘Don't worry, we'll win,' Felipe said. ‘Russet is the best filly in the whole county, no one can outrun her. Unless, of course, the Lord Protector shows up with that mare he took from me last summer. She was the best horse I've ever had. Do you remember Sorrel, Cosmo? Riding her was like reclining on the wind. You can't beat those hot-bloods.'

‘I bet that grey filly has a motion on her like that,' Cosmo said. ‘She has to be almost pure Arab with that dished-in face and the lines of her.'

‘Pure, I'd say,' Felipe said. ‘I wonder if the little girl has any idea what she's worth.'

‘Probably not.' A woman's voice spoke for the first time. ‘But I can tell you one thing, you men. That little girl loves her horse, and at the moment it's the only thing she's got left to love. So don't you go trying any of your tricks on her, do you hear?'

‘Julisa, you wrong us, truly you do!' Cosmo's voice was mocking. ‘We're merely admiring the horse from afar.'

‘Make sure it stays from afar,' Julisa said.

‘Now, now, Julisa, there's no need to scold us, we have no designs on the horse or the girl,' Felipe said. ‘You know we've set up this race for tomorrow, and we're just anxious. These two weans could not have come at a worse time for us. The last thing we want is the attention of the constables. This is to be a big race, there's gold riding on it . . .'

‘Horseracing, and gambling, no wonder you don't want any constables nosing around.' Julisa's voice dripped with scorn.

‘That's right.
We
don't want to end up in gaol.'

‘And you called the Finches fools!'

‘Well, at least we're not planning on horseracing through the middle of Kingston,' Felipe said, exasperated. ‘It's a private race between gentlemen . . .'

Julisa snorted.

‘. . . and if my Russet wins, not only will I gain a very large bag of gold, but Lord Berkely is bound to offer to buy the mare from me, and I'll be able to ask a good price for her. Come, Julisa. You know times have been hard. Do you think I'd take such a risk if I didn't think the rewards were worth it?'

‘Felipe, please, can't you cancel the race? They threw the whole Finch family into gaol because they sang and danced in the marketplace. What will they do to us for horseracing and gambling? There'll be the very devil to pay if we aren't careful!'

‘Oooh, blasphemy, Julisa! Be careful! A Puritan may be listening,' Cosmo teased.

Julisa expelled her breath in exasperation. ‘There's no talking to you men, you always do just what you want and damn the consequences.' Her skirt swished on the grass as she walked away.

‘Poor Felipe! What a nag you're wedded to. They have a scold's bridle in Kingston, you should take her along –'

‘That's enough, Cosmo!' Janka spoke sharply. ‘Julisa is right to be concerned. I think you should cancel this race too, if the countryside is crawling with Puritans. It's just too dangerous.'

‘I can't, Mama,' Felipe said shortly. ‘The bets are all laid, and if I back out I'll be forfeit. I can't afford to call the race off. We'll set lookouts all round, and make sure we have warning of any constables approaching.'

‘Very well then,' Janka said, and groaned as she
struggled to her feet. ‘I'm off to my bed. There's a damp mist rising and it makes my poor old bones ache. Don't you boys drink too much. You want to be bright-eyed and clear-headed for that race of yours tomorrow!'

The old gypsy woman climbed laboriously up the steps of her caravan, her bracelets rattling, then Felipe stood too. ‘I'm for my bed as well. It'll be a hard race tomorrow, and dirty too, with all the rain we've had.'

‘Not just because of the rain,' Cosmo said. ‘We need to win that race, Felipe.'

‘I know,' his brother said.

‘Bad luck to have those brats arrive on our step just now,' Cosmo said. ‘Do you think they'll bring trouble on their heels?'

‘I'm afraid so,' Felipe said. ‘Lucky I ran into that thief-taker yesterday. Else those weans would have brought him right up to our campfire, and at the very worst possible time!'

‘Best send them on their way,' Cosmo said. ‘First thing in the morning.'

‘How can we?' Felipe said. ‘They're only weans.'

‘They're thirteen, not three,' Cosmo said. ‘Don't be soft, Felipe. They must have other kin they can go to. We can't afford trouble. Send them on their way, and concentrate on winning us that race!'

Felipe grunted in reply and shut his caravan door. As Cosmo made his own way to bed, Emilia drew her knees to her chest and sobbed quietly into her arms.

W
hile Emilia lay weeping in her rough blanket, Luka was stumbling along through the darkness with Sebastien.

Zizi was huddled inside his jacket, fast asleep, and Luka could not help wishing that he was asleep too, rolled in a blanket by the fire. He felt sure that Sebastien was his best hope of enlisting help from the Hearne family, though. He had seen the look on Sebastien's face when he had heard Beatrice was imprisoned. Luka had no intention of giving up just because the Hearnes were too
scared to help out. All day, while he and Emilia had been hiding out in the wood, he had been turning over plans in his head. All of them were wild and improbable, but Luka was sure that, in time, he would come up with a strategy that would work.

So far Sebastien had already given him a few ideas. He had inundated him with questions about how the Finch family came to be locked up and what Luka planned to do.

‘Break them out,' Luka had replied. ‘Somehow. We'd be safe once we got back to the Great North Wood. It's huge, and we know it like the back of our hands.'

‘But how do you plan to get them out?' Sebastien wanted to know.

‘No idea,' Luka had to admit.

‘What you need to do is get your hands on the keys to the cells,' Sebastien said.

‘Well, yes, I've thought of that, strangely
enough,' Luka said. ‘But firstly, how am I meant to get hold of the keys –'

‘Steal them,' Sebastien said.

‘How? The gaol's above the local ale house, there are people there all the time. And then I thought of ambushing the innkeeper on his way home, but what if he doesn't carry the keys with him? I'd have to break into the ale house and there are guards on duty all the time, and the nightwatchman patrolling the streets too. It's right in the middle of town.'

‘Nick the keys during the day, have copies made of them, and put them back again,' Sebastien suggested.

‘That's easier said than done.'

‘No, listen. This is what you do. You make some kind of diversion, like shouting “Fire!”, and then duck in and grab the keys. You've got to have some candle wax that you've softened over a flame and kept warm in your hand. You grab the keys and press them one by one into the candle wax
until you have a clear imprint. Then you put the keys back before anyone realises they've gone.'

Luka frowned. It sounded risky. ‘Then what?' he asked.

‘Then you take the pieces of wax to a smith you can trust, and get him to cut the keys for you. It's quite tricky. If they don't do a good job, then the keys won't work and you've gone to all that trouble for nothing. You'll only have one chance to do this, so you'll need to go to an expert, I think.'

‘I don't know any experts,' Luka said.

‘You want to go to the Smith family, they're the best,' Sebastien said. ‘You must know them?'

Luka nodded. ‘I've heard of them. My Baba knew them years ago, and I think her cousin married one.'

‘They'll probably help you, then, since you're kin,' Sebastien said.

‘Like your family was willing to help?' Luka said bitterly.

There was a short silence. Then Sebastien said, ‘I'm sure my father would help if he could. It's a bad time right now. I'll talk to him tomorrow, after the race – he'll be feeling a bit easier then.'

‘The race?' Luka asked.

‘Aye!' Sebastien exclaimed in excitement. ‘We race on the Downs up here, have done for years. Parliament's outlawed it now, of course, but we still do it, on the sly. Used to be we did it every spring, but now we set a different date all the time, and only those in the know hear about it. You'll have to come and watch, it's great fun.'

‘I don't know what we'll be doing,' Luka said. ‘If you won't help us, we'll have to go and find someone who will.'

‘Don't go rushing off,' Sebastien pleaded. ‘I'll talk to my dad after the race. If we've done well, and made back some of our money, well, then . . .'

‘I thought you were doing well for yourselves,'
Luka said, surprised. ‘I thought the Lord Protector couldn't get enough of your horses.'

‘He can't. The only problem is, half the time we don't get paid for them. The Roundheads just requisition them, for God and country, they say, or else they pay us a down payment and give us a deed promising the rest later. And because horseracing is illegal now, we can't even hustle up some money that way. Times are tough for everyone, and we're feeling the bite just like everyone else.'

‘I see,' Luka said. He did not speak for some time after, thinking things through. He was remembering the night of the betrothal, and how all the Hearne women had been heavy with jewellery, with bright scarves and skirts, and how the men had brought out fine wines and talked expansively of the good times they were enjoying with the Lord Protector's favour. Had it been all talk, he wondered, to pique the Finch family's
pride and make sure they offered a good dowry for Beatrice? If so, it had worked. Jacob had been determined not to sell Beatrice cheap, and it was partly because of their need to fulfil their dowry promise that they had gone to Kingston-Upon-Thames in the first place.

‘Don't get me wrong,' Sebastien said. ‘We haven't had any trouble of the other kind thanks to the Lord Protector's interest. We haven't been stoned or chased with dogs for a long time. People know our horses are good. Too good sometimes! Cromwell took my dad's best mare last summer, and has already had a foal from her, we've heard.'

‘The Roundheads took Emilia's mother's mare too,' Luka said. ‘And didn't give us a penny.'

‘May they pay for their shame,' Sebastien said, a ritual curse of the gypsies.

Luka nodded, feeling oddly comforted.

All the while they had been talking, they had been walking along the top of the Downs. Now
they saw the lights of the town down in the valley, and Sebastien turned and began to lead the way down the steep slope.

Luka hung back. ‘Where are we going?'

‘To town,' Sebastien said. ‘The night before the race, we slip down to the inns and give the wink to a few of the locals. They know what it means when we gypsies are in town! It means there'll be more of a crowd for the race tomorrow, and better odds offered.'

‘Isn't it a bit of a risk?' Luka said.

‘In case the constables get to hear of it? Well, maybe somewhere like Kingston, where they're all blue-nosed Puritans, but down in Epsom they like a drink and a gamble as much as the next man.'

Luka hesitated. ‘I don't know.'

‘You're not worried that the constables from Kingston are still after you, are you? They'd have turned back as soon as they reached the parish bounds, I promise you. They've got other things
to worry about other than a snotty-nosed gypsy boy.'

‘I'm not snotty-nosed,' Luka said indignantly.

‘Only because it's summer.'

‘Well, everyone's snotty-nosed in winter,' Luka said, following Sebastien down the track.

‘Speak for yourself.'

‘I guess you never get lice or fleas either.'

‘Certainly not. But then I don't hang around with bears or monkeys.'

‘Zizi doesn't have fleas!' Luka said indignantly. Then he grinned. ‘I can't swear for Sweetheart, though,' he admitted. ‘She scratches a lot.'

‘It must've been fun growing up with a pet bear,' Sebastien said.

‘She's a funny old thing,' Luka said. ‘My uncle Ruben has had her since she was a cub. I don't know what I'm going to do with her. She makes us so conspicuous. I know you say the constables will have given up the chase, but that cold pig of a
man, he's out to get us, I know he is. As long as we've got Sweetheart, he'll be able to track us down easily.'

‘Well, you can always leave her with me for a little while,' Sebastien said consolingly. ‘As long as she doesn't unsettle the horses too much.'

‘That'd be great,' Luka said gratefully. ‘Just till we can get everyone out of gaol.'

Sebastien did not reply, and Luka saw by his face that he did not think they had much chance of rescuing his family. Depression settled over him.

They were passing the church, and Luka was able to see Sebastien's face by the light of the lantern which hung before the gate. It cast a soft, blurry, orange glow into the mist, which swirled about the legs of the two boys. On either side of the gate were tall yew trees, massive and dark and smelling of death. Through the gate, Luka could see the square shape of the church tower, with a
little steeple on top. Next to the church was the cemetery, with lots of old, mossy gravestones rising unevenly from the black ground like crooked teeth.

In unspoken accord, the two boys quickened their pace. They turned into a broad white road, cut into the chalk of the Downs. On either side was rolling parkland. Luka could see a grand house with many shining lights set well back from the road.

‘Aye, that's one of the reasons why we come here to race,' Sebastien said. ‘There are so many big houses about. That one is called The Durdans and is owned by Lord Berkely. He has a fine stable and will probably have a horse in the race. We should see some of their men at the inn, to tip them the wink. Never you fear. They're no Puritans! Come on, this mist is awful. Let's go have an ale and warm ourselves by the fire.'

The two boys hurried on down the pale road. Sebastien bent and picked up a lump of chalk, and stowed it in his pocket, saying with a grin, ‘Just what I need.'

‘How come?' Luka asked.

‘You'll see,' Sebastien answered.

Epsom was a sizable town, with a broad high street lined with a great many shops and houses crammed higgledy-piggledy together. The street led them to the village green, with a large pond in its centre.

‘Is that the well with the water everyone wants to drink?' Luka asked.

‘Nay! That's up on the Downs, another ten minutes' walk past here. That's just the pond. Come on, we'll go to the Spread Eagle first, that's where the gentlemen of the town tend to drink. Then we'll head to the King's Head up the road.'

Warm light and the buzz of conversation
spilled out through the doors and windows of the inn. Luka began to hang back. He could not help feeling wary of showing his face in company.

‘I'm not stopping here anyway,' Sebastien said. ‘The likes of me aren't welcome here!' He kept close to the wall, in the shadows, then took the lump of chalk out of his pocket and rapidly drew something on the wall. Curious, Luka bent to see. It was a picture of a running horse.

‘Anyone who sees that will know to be up on the Downs come morning,' Sebastien said with satisfaction. ‘Come on, let's go up the King's Head now. I need an ale!'

The other inn was far noisier, with lots of laughter and music. Once again Sebastien sketched the shape of a running horse on the wall, taking care not to be seen. Luka asked him if he was worried about being caught by the town watch, but Sebastien just laughed. ‘No, of course
not!' he answered. ‘This just makes it more mysterious and exciting for the town folk. They think it appears by magic!'

He put the chalk away and rubbed his dusty fingers on his breeches, saying, ‘Brrr! It's cold tonight. Let's get that ale before we head back up the Downs.'

Luka would not come in, though. He had had a few too many narrow escapes in the past two days. He shook his head and said he would wait outside with Zizi in the dark alleyway that ran down the side of the inn.

For the next ten minutes, Luka cursed himself for a fool as he waited out in the chilly mist, getting crosser and colder every minute. But then, as he heard the clip-clop of a horse's hooves approaching down the high street, he was glad of his caution. For as the horse stopped outside the inn, and the rider dismounted and gave his reins to the ostler with a curt nod and a
tossed coin, Luka recognised Coldham's burly shoulders and heavy, coarse-featured face. He shrank back into the shadows, his arms crossed protectively over his sleeping monkey, his heart beating so hard he felt it would suffocate him.