TWENTY-SIX
TWO DAYS LATER, a knock at my door set my heart to thumping. I had been jumpy and fearful ever since my odd conversation with Gerlach, waiting for Dieter to reveal the test and whether I’d failed, waiting for Gerlach to start in again. To my surprise, Sepp stepped through the doorway. His sombre expression shrivelled the bloom of hope I felt at seeing him.
‘Matilde,’ he said softly, without preamble. ‘You need to come with me.’
‘What has happened?’ I asked, grim possibilities racing through my mind. Riot inside the walls, or the glimmer of Ilthean campfires signalling the army’s arrival?
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, but didn’t elaborate.
I hesitated, and he frowned and added, ‘There isn’t much time, Tilde.’
‘Much time for what?’ I demanded.
Instead of answering, Sepp pushed past me and opened the entrance to the thralls’ runs.
I paused on the threshold of the lamplit corridor, uneasy at the lack of guards. I did not believe the guards’ absence to be coincidence, but it was difficult to credit that Sepp could have arranged it. Gerlach’s strange behaviour flashed to mind, but I dismissed the idea. Sepp’s distrust ran too deep; he would not work with Dieter, or any of his men.
‘Sepp, what’s going on?’
He turned to look at me. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘That’s not fair –’
‘Do you?’ he demanded.
‘Yes, but I need to know –’
‘You need to come with me,’ he said again, turning away. ‘I’m not talking to you anywhere those guards of his can overhear us.’
With a sigh I followed, and the stone door snicked shut behind us. His urgent stride gave us no time to speak as he led me towards the lower courtyard. As we stepped into the brisk night air, Sepp’s pace quickened even further and I had to trot to keep up. The hurry put a sting of fear back into my veins. What was so urgent?
‘Sepp, what –?’
‘Not yet,’ he said, his eyes scanning the shadows.
I fell back, increasingly nervous of the familiar contours. The corner of the kitchen bore ominous new outlines that could have been peering heads. Was it the wind, rustling across the gravel of the garden, or the tread of unfriendly feet? The pitch blackness beneath the Pigs Gate set my heart to quailing. Only Sepp’s unhesitating step prodded me through into the thick scent of mulch and fresh manure. The pigs yoinked and grunted and came trotting to the side of their pens.
Though mud slicked up and around our feet, Sepp’s stride didn’t slacken in the least before he ducked into the musky darkness of the stables up ahead, the gloom swallowing him in moments. I hurried in after him. The air that washed over me carried spores, I was sure of it: fungal fur would be taking root in my lungs with every breath.
Shapes resolved out of the dim interior, slat-fenced stalls and the bulk of tack hooked to the walls. This section of the stable housed only the horses, for the ceiling was too low to admit an upper level. The hayloft, and the loft where the stable thralls slept, lay in the other direction, hidden by the darkness. Ahead of me, Sepp stood near the final stall – near what appeared to be the mouth of a tunnel.
Sweat slicked my palms as I stopped.
‘You need to hurry, Matilde,’ Sepp said.
Rustlings from the stall near him spoke of another presence, one of the horses disturbed by the unusual visit. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped forward.
‘Watch your step,’ Sepp added, but it was too late. My foot sank into a warm pile of horse manure. Ignoring the wet warmth seeping through my thin shoes, I joined him near the furthermost stall. Taking in the sacks gathered in a heap in front of the stall, a nameless dread chilled my spine.
Roshi stepped out of the gloom of the stall dressed for practicality in boots, goat-leather pants and tunic, her hair gathered back into a braid at her nape. She carried a leather hackamore in one hand, a coil of rope in the other.
‘It’s time to go, Matilde,’ she said.
‘What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,’ I said, panicked.
‘Yes you are, and you’re leaving now,’ said Roshi. ‘We have provisions enough to last us a fortnight if we’re thrifty. This tunnel will bring us out closer to the walls than I’d like, but if we keep our heads low, we’ve a solid enough chance of escaping notice.’
‘In case you’ve forgotten, there’s an army out there, marching towards us and in all likelihood intent on destroying my land and beheading my husband. I won’t let it happen!’ I said, hot tears springing to my eyes. My voice had risen, sending abrupt echoes through the quiet stable, startling the sleeping horses. Quietly but firmly, I finished, ‘I’ve lost one family already. I’ll not walk away from another.’
‘We need to hurry,’ Sepp said to Roshi, who nodded, turning to bridle the pony.
‘I’m not leaving,’ I insisted.
Roshi shared a look with Sepp. I didn’t wait to find out its meaning. Readiness sharpened my muscles as I mentally measured the spaces in the stable aisle, then I turned, already running. As I clawed and shoved past Sepp, my soiled foot slipped on the dry rushes, losing me precious moments as I righted myself.
Roshi must have whipped around, for the next thing I knew she’d snagged my forearm. The stall slats stopped her from gaining a good grip, but it was enough to slow me. Not that Sepp needed any help: he too was fast, hooking my leg out from under me. I landed on my back with all the grace of an upended turtle, slamming into the rammed earth hard enough to wind myself. Blackness shrouded my vision. When it cleared, Roshi had jumped the stall to crouch over me. Hands on my shoulders, she peered into my face. Behind her, Sepp bent to the provisions, working swiftly.
‘I won’t lose him too,’ I said, breathless and dazed. ‘He’s all I have left.’
‘He’s the one thing you don’t have,’ she replied. ‘But until you’re clear-headed enough to see it, and to see him without forgetting it, it isn’t wise for you to be around him.’
I squirmed in the sodden rushes, but Roshi’s legs gripped me too tight.
‘It’s time we freed you,’ said Roshi with a hesitant smile. ‘Your way, this time.’
‘I’ll bind you if I must.’
I spat, but my aim was dreadful, the gobbet brushing a few stray strands of her hair.
‘Fine,’ Roshi said. ‘Sepp, the rope, please.’
Sepp passed the coil of rope over my head. As Roshi lifted a hand from my shoulder to take it, I shoved her off me and into Sepp’s legs. They both dropped in a tangle and I scrambled to my feet, lifted my skirts and ran. A bang and a startled whicker sounded behind me, but I didn’t look back. Ahead, a light flickered to life – one of the thralls had been woken by the clamour. Hope rose in me as the light strengthened.
Roshi took me down in a tackle that splayed me face-first into more horse manure. ‘Willing or not, cousin, you’re leaving,’ she murmured. ‘Now.’
Hauling my hands behind my back, she snaked the coarse rope around my wrists, tying it so tight it burned, no matter how little I struggled. After she’d bound my wrists, keeping one knee planted in the middle of my back, pinning me, she stood. It all happened so swiftly that the light had not yet moved forward. There came a single moment of freedom from Roshi’s pressing weight, then I was being hauled to my feet. I turned my head to find it was Sepp helping me to stand.
Between them, he and Roshi hustled me forward, towards the sturdy pony standing ready in the aisle, laden with the provisions.
I summoned one last shred of resistance, digging in my heels and pulling against their guidance. I only needed a few more moments, and we would be discovered. ‘You’ll have to knock me out to take me,’ I said.
‘Very well,’ Roshi said, then swung her fist at my temple, the crack of the impact turning the world black.