LITMIR.BIZ

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the dagger, but not quite. She bit at his hand, but only succeeded in grazing his knuckle with her teeth. She tried to knee him but he was ready for that, sidestepping into the space between her legs. She saw red. Squealing with rage, and with a violent twist of her body, she bent like a tensioned bow to release herself from his arms. Unable to swing her hand back, she raked at him with her nails and felt the terrible contact of the skin on his neck before her wrist was caught again. Her other hand caused similar damage to his cheek before it was twisted cruelly behind her, putting an end to her brief but violent retaliation.

      Before she could avoid him he took possession of her mouth with his own, this time with no softening from either of them as her lips were forced apart to take his invasion. Devising every resistance against his authority, she was still powerless against him, held by her thick plait and the scruff of her neck, made to wait upon his mastery.

      Her legs were unprepared for the suddenness of release and, rather than fall, she clung to his sleeve while holding a hand to her mouth, her tears of helpless anger betraying the hurt.

      ‘That, my lady, was a reward,’ he said, hoarsely. ‘In case you were wondering.’

      ‘For what?’ she croaked.

      ‘For protecting your child from danger, even though there was none.’

      Her reply scalded him with its contempt. ‘I don’t need a reward for that, you great patronising dolt. It comes as part of motherhood. Rabbits do it. Birds, bitches, even whores do it. Women who sell themselves. Now leave me alone!’

      ‘I shall not leave you alone. You know I shall not.’ He hesitated, then strode away with a hand to his cheek and not a backward glance.

      Round the corner of the armourer’s workshop he collided heavily with Hugh of Leyland, who grasped him by the shoulders to steady him, looking closely at the parallel lines of blood on his friend’s face and neck. ‘Ah! Sent you packing, did she, lad?’ he chuckled.

      His laugh was cut short with startling speed when he found himself flat on his back on the cobbled yard, holding on to his jaw as though it might fall off. ‘What?’ he squeaked. ‘You gave me permission to laugh when—’

      ‘Well, I’ve changed my bloody mind!’ Sir Alex yelled at him, stalking away. ‘And why is there no supper ready? Are we all supposed to be fasting today?’

      

      There was no question of the two factions eating supper together, for although duties must be attended to, a certain restraint must be observed, with Sir Joseph laid out not fifty yards away. Besides, they were enemies.

      Anxious to conceal from Meg the effects of her violent clash with their leader, Ebony attempted a positive demeanour as she supervised their private meal of rabbit and mushrooms, cold roast venison and young nettles, boiled. There were hot griddle-cakes with honey, Sam’s favourite, but the chastened Biddie had to feed him the last few mouthfuls with his eyes half-closed.

      ‘You see,’ Ebony said, ‘he’s absolutely all-in. I knew he would be. Hours of daylight left and he’ll sleep until well before cock-crow and then wake us all up. With a wee rest this afternoon, he could have gone to bed later and slept till a decent time. He’ll not do this tomorrow, mind you.’

      ‘The answer is,’ said Meg, licking her sticky fingers, ‘to let Biddie and Sam sleep by themselves.’

      ‘Not in a separate room,’ Ebony said. ‘I need him with me in case he has nightmares.’

      ‘Did he have one last night?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Well, then.’ Meg wiped her fingers on the napkin. ‘I think you could give it a try and see what happens. You need your sleep as much as he does.’ She laid a hand over Ebony’s, noting the strain of the last two days in her eyes. ‘Come on, love. He’s getting to be a big lad. We don’t need to be squashed up like rabbits in a place this size, and we don’t have to ask Father’s permission to breathe, now.’

      Biddie agreed, having been kicked out of bed two nights ago. Taking Sam up in her arms, she placed him on Ebony’s knees. ‘If you hold him a while, I’ll go and make that bed up for us in the tower room below yours. It’s wider than the truckle-bed we had last night, and you know he’s always wanted to sleep in there where the windows look out on to the courtyard.’

      ‘What if he wakes and needs me?’

      ‘If he needs you, he can come up to you, can’t he?’

      The battle had been half-lost already, and Sam was growing up. There was little point in denying it. ‘We’ll give it a try,’ she said.

      ‘Now,’ said Meg as soon as Biddie had gone, ‘we have to get another problem sorted out before tomorrow.’ She leaned her arms on the table and wiped up a shining dome of honey with a finger. ‘Those men are not reivers, Ebbie. They’re here on some other business and we have to find out what it is. Now. Tonight.’

      Ebony hitched Sam further on to her knees and adjusted his sleeping head on her arm. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s what I’ve been thinking all day. Reivers don’t bother to teach their victims’ children how to ride, for one thing, nor do they ever want to hang about in time for a funeral. They’d be identified.’

      ‘And I don’t know any family of the name of Somers. Or Leyland.’

      ‘Leyland is down in Lancashire, but this man’s a Lowlander.’

      ‘There’s something strange going on, Ebbie. We have to find out who they’re working for and what they’re after. They’ve been all through the stables, and they’ve had men in the pastures herding the Galloways up.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘That’s something else we need to know.’

      The Galloways were Sir Joseph’s pride. The pure-bred ponies were ideal as both mounts and packhorses, sure-footed and hardy, very fast and possessed of remarkable stamina. Out in all weathers, they could feed on heather as well as rough pasture; they were dark brown against the rock-strewn hillsides and invisible at night. The Laird of Kells had bred them from his grandsire’s herd, eventually owning the largest in the Lowlands of Scotland. Men had tried to steal rather than to buy them and, to Meg and Ebony, the matter seemed clear.

      ‘Horse thieves,’ Ebony said. ‘They have to be. But what’s this information they’re after?’

      ‘It’s a ruse. I don’t believe it. My father sells the Galloways to King Robert for the Scots to use in battle. That’s what’s made him wealthy. If they take our herd, we’re done.’

      ‘But what’s to prevent them from giving us some cock-and-bull story about what they’re up to? They can admit that they’re not reivers and then tell us anything they like. How do we check if it’s true? Those two are glib enough to lure a badger out, Meg, and twice as clever as a dog-fox.’

      ‘There are two of us, don’t forget, and we’re equally as bright, though they’ll not have worked that out yet. If we can see through them at this stage, then we can choose what else to believe, can’t we? Come on. Here’s Biddie. Let’s go and arrange that interview, Eb.’

      

      It was not as difficult as they had imagined, Master Hugh of Leyland being alone and near enough to the auditor’s office to be herded like a startled bullock into a holding-pen. His first reaction was of a natural delight at being the object of their joint attention until a second look at their determined and decidedly chilly expressions brought his smile to a standstill, then to a retreat. ‘Ladies,’ he said, backing into the chequered counting-board, ‘how may I assist you?’

      ‘The truth will do, for a start,’ said Ebony. ‘But don’t bother to embroider it, if you please. We are both accomplished needlewomen and we know how to unpick what we don’t like. Even in the gloaming.’

      ‘The truth…about what?’

      The

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