Unexpected Magic (55 page)

N
ow we come to Cecilia and how she was probably very foolish. The first thing she did when the outlaws appeared at the top of the cliff was to hang onto Lord Tremath's foot again, as if by doing that she could somehow stop his whole army. The outlaws were all standing where they were with no triumph left in them. Most of them suddenly looked tired out, particularly Robert. He rode slowly toward Lord Tremath and his squire, who were both smiling. Cecilia felt like giving Lord Tremath's foot a hearty tug, she thought it so mean of him to smile.

“I know the Perland caves like the back of my hand, Robert,” said the squire.

“So I see,” said Robert. “My lord, I must beg you to let no harm come to Cecilia. May I implore you not to hand her over to Conrad of Towerwood, whatever you do to the rest of us?”

Cecilia was so touched by this that she must indeed have tugged Lord Tremath's foot. He looked down at her in surprise. “Where is the Prince, Robert?” he said. “I must know that before I make another move in this affair.”

“I do not know, my lord. He is not with us, nor with Towerwood, and Towerwood came upon us before my spies returned from Gairne.”

“You sent to Gairne!” exclaimed the squire. “Then has Towerwood—?” Cecilia, looking up at him, decided that he must be Lord Tremath's son. He had the same gray eyes.

“I will trust you, Robert,” Lord Tremath interrupted. “I will take no part in this battle. And, since time is short, tell me what you wish me to do.”

Cecilia saw that Robert was amazed. “Thank you, my lord,” he said. Lord Tremath smiled at him. The squire laughed and, as soon as he really believed them, Robert laughed as well. Rupert Lord Strass came up beside him, laughing too, and they began to talk together hurriedly, not needing to say much, as if they knew one another very well.

“I think,” Cecilia thought, “they must all have been great friends before the Prince was killed.” She stood low down in the midst of them, still in danger of being trampled on, and was just able to see the other outlaws coming clustering around, listening and smiling. Soldiers in Lord Tremath's army were waving to them and calling out jokes. Cecilia could have cried with delight.

The squire leaned forward to Lord Strass. “Rupert,” he said anxiously, “is James dead?”

“No, but he needs care at once. Ralph, could you ask your father—?”

Lord Tremath looked at James of March hanging over Rupert's horse. “We must take James then. You too, Rupert, I think. We shall call you hostage. We will take all those on foot and the wounded. Ralph must see them safely to Tremath. The rest must fend for themselves. Do you agree, Robert? I shall not let Towerwood near them, and I will suspend justice until the Prince is found. I myself will go to Gairne and enquire for him.”

“Cecilia,” said Robert, “you must go to Tremath with Ralph.” He was bending down, smiling at her, and Cecilia looked up regretfully, afraid he would be killed. His eyes were black. She had never seen eyes so dark and likeable, and she could not bear never to see them again.

Then Tom came bursting through the outlaws beside her with blood on his beard and his orange livery hacked with sword cuts. “My lords, I don't know what ye decide among ye, but Towerwood found the secret passages. Half on his men be coming up them. The rest on 'em be a-riding around the valley to come up here.”

“Then quick, Robert,” said Lord Tremath. “I can do nothing for you until I know the Prince's will. You must ride away.”

The outlaws ran and rode backward here and there to give Robert a path. His great blue horse turned around, willing but weary, and horse and rider seemed to Cecilia to be lost already, surrounded in foggy breath—their own and that of the people crowding away from them.

It was then that Cecilia was foolish. She ran after Robert screaming: “Take me too. Please, Robert, do not leave me behind!” Robert stopped and looked down at her as if he simply did not know what to say. Cecilia knew she was embarrassing him again, but she did not care. “Please!” she said. She knew he would have to say no. She knew the Tremaths, the outlaws, and all the army were staring, but she was too far gone in foolishness to care.

“I will take you if you wish,” Robert said, “but you will be safer with Ralph.”

Cecilia was so astonished at what he said that she had not the presence of mind to refuse. She knew she should have pretended to change her mind so that he could hurry away, but she was foolish still. “I do not want to be safe,” she said. “Let me ride behind you.”

Robert held down one hand to help her mount. He did not seem in the least angry, or worried that his horse would have so much more work to do.

“Wait,” said Ralph of Tremath. Cecilia turned and saw him coming off his own great eager horse. “My horse is fresh,” he said. “He can more easily take two than yours.” He stood smiling and offering Cecilia his reins and Cecilia remembered him like that gratefully for the rest of her life. He had one of the brightest, sweetest smiles she had ever seen, and his hair was bright red-brown. He was a year younger than she was then, but he lived to a great old age and was the great-grandfather of Edward the Unlucky.

In a few seconds, Robert and Cecilia were away. For a moment, Ralph of Tremath was beside them on Robert's horse, saying: “We will delay him as long as we can. Trust my father, Robert.” Then he had turned aside and the great horse was rushing downhill alone, making an icy wind and smashing the hard crust of the snow with its huge feet. Behind them, the outlaws and the army gave a cheer. Cecilia, with her fingers twisted in Robert's orange cloak, looked back and saw them all watching, but as she looked, they turned away and went crowding up to the cliff edge. She saw men in Towerwood's livery climbing up beside them. Looking farther around, she saw a line of black riders galloping up the hill from the open end of the valley.

Robert looked over his shoulder too. “Have they seen us?”

“No,” shouted Cecilia. The men were all hurrying to the top of the cliff, obviously sure that Tremath had caught the outlaws. None of them looked their way. She turned to look forward and hoped that Lord Tremath and his son would be able to keep the Hornets safe from Towerwood, when Towerwood discovered they had let Robert go. Maybe there would be another battle—between Towerwood and Tremath this time.

The horse turned slightly to the right. Robert had moved into the wide trampled track which the Tremath army had made marching from the direction of the coast. They followed this for a long way, with their own hoof marks almost hidden in it, until they reached a road. The army had come along the road, from the left, and again they followed the mass of deep blue prints.

“I hope,” Robert called over to Cecilia, “I hope they will think we have gone to Tremath. We will turn off soon.”

They turned off when there was a lane leading south again over the hills. Several horses had gone that way before them, and again their prints were almost hidden. By this time the horse was blowing and Robert let it walk for a space. There was a farm at the end of the lane.

“They are friendly here,” Robert said. “We shall get something to eat. You must be hungry, Cecilia.”

“So must you,” said Cecilia, realizing that the outlaws must have been attacked before they had a chance to eat breakfast.

Robert laughed. “I could eat this horse—except that we would never reach the Forest if I did. I think we must go to the Forest. It is full of hiding places. Everard has a hunting lodge there which I think we can make use of. Something tells me that if ever the Prince gets out of Towerwood's hands, he will not blame me. I wish we could do more than hope Tremath can find him.”

“And we cannot?” Cecilia asked, thinking of Alex.

The horse stopped in the middle of the farmyard. Robert turned round, looking very sad and serious. “My dear Cecilia, it is possible we cannot save even ourselves. You must promise me, now, before we dismount, that you will run or ride away if I tell you to.”

“Because I am an Outsider? Yes, Robert, I promise.” Cecilia slid down the warm dampish side of the horse and stood in the snow, feeling very small and melancholy.

Robert dismounted too. “Not only because you are an Outsider,” he said sadly, “but because Towerwood is utterly ruthless. Do you know, Cecilia, he stood before his whole army and told me he had forced my poor mother to take poison? A man who can do that can do anything.”

“Oh, Robert!” said Cecilia.

The farmer came striding over on the slippery snow just then. “We hear that news too, my lord,” he said. “Best come inside, but we cannot have ye for long. Had orders again not to give ye help this morning.” Cecilia thought he did not look the kind of man who would willingly help anyone. He was tall and yellow and surly. She supposed at first that Robert must have paid him a great deal of money to be his ally; but, when they came inside into a warm whitewashed kitchen, and the farmer's wife and children came excitedly around, she realized she was wrong. The farmer was Tom's cousin and very glad to hear he was still alive. They were given breakfast, a homely ordinary breakfast which, apart from there being no tea, was very like the supper she and Alex had given Robert a fortnight before. She was sure Robert was remembering that, because he seemed embarrassed again.

It was here that they heard the story of the Prince being mad.

“Heard say last night,” said the farmer. “Messenger from Towerwood to Tremath. Telling everyone the Prince were mad.”

Robert stood up from the table so indignantly that the farmer's youngest little girl began to cry. Cecilia hurriedly coaxed her to stop, not knowing what to think, except that she was terrified for Alex.

“
Everard
!” said Robert. “That old wives' story again! Will you all do me the kindness to contradict it whenever you hear it. It is much more likely the poor boy is dead. Everard flies into rages because he is an only son and somewhat spoiled. He will grow out of that. It means nothing that his mother and father are first cousins. I will
not
have old women shaking their heads and talking of madness. As if any Prince has ever been mad!”

“Aye, my lord,” said the farmer's wife, “we'll give them the lie, never fear. Ye need madness in the family if it's to take them this young, and we know there be none. Why else do they say in times of trouble that all are mad save the Prince alone?”

“And if Everard lives, he will prove that saying true,” Robert answered. “Come, Cecilia.”

They rode on again, this time boldly across country. The sun was well up now and the land glittered yellow and blue until Cecilia's eyes ached. Beside them, the powdery snow flew up from under its hard crust in winking rainbows like a shower of ground diamonds. Cecilia rode astride, which was a great deal easier, and almost enjoyed herself. But whenever she felt too happy she made herself look over her shoulder at the bare rolling hills to see if Towerwood was following yet. She knew he would follow and hunt them down. Their position was nearly as hopeless as it could be. They would be tracked from place to place in the snow until they were run to earth.

“Robert,” she said, “why do you not come Outside again with me?”

She saw Robert hump his shoulders as he thought about it. “From habit, I think,” he answered. “But I will, as a last resort. Let us see what happens.”

A little after this, they took to a lane again to disguise their trail. Around a corner, between high bare hedges, they met a man, an odd, wild, ragged person with great long legs. His toes would have trailed in the snow on either side of his donkey if he had not kept his feet bent awkwardly backward. Robert reined in. Cecilia peered around him at the wild man's thin face, which was much the shape of the sole of a boot. He looked up at her, as interested as she was, and smoothed his straggling steel-colored hair in her honor. It was Robert he spoke to.

“They are following you, my lord.”

“How near are they?” Robert asked.

The man stuck out his chin, the toe of his boot-face, and seemed to be watching something in the air. “Catching up, my lord. You have five miles or so to play with. They have bloodhounds with them.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Robert answered and sounded very dismayed. “Then I need your advice. What shall I do with Cecilia?”

“Take her. You will need her help. Go south to the lands Outside where you are both safe. I need not tell you to find a river, my lord, to throw the dogs off the scent.”

“No,” said Robert. “You need not.” He began to ride on, but the man held out one long arm to stop him.

“I wish I had met you before,” he said. “The Prince is at Endwait, in a dungeon, I think.”

“Endwait! What barbarity! We will go there, then.”

The man shook his wild head. “You will not get there. My Lord March and his men are returning along the Endwait road. Go southwest, through the Forest.
I
will go to Endwait. Farewell.”

Robert rode much faster after that. Cecilia had to shout against the wind when she wanted to talk to him.

“Who was that man? How did he know we are being followed with dogs?”