His Runaway Maiden. June Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ dismay, when they finally reached the dark outline of a building Alex had spotted some distance away, it was to discover that it was just a burnt-out shell with charred beams crisscrossed against the sky.

      Alex dismounted and wandered about the ruins before returning to his horse. ‘There is nowhere to take shelter here. We must ride on,’ he said brusquely.

      He half-expected his companion to complain, but despite being near to tears with disappointment, hunger and weariness, Rosamund remained silent. She pulled her hood over her hat and huddled inside her cloak and prayed that they would soon come to another inn.

      The wind rose and she was glad of the bulwark his body provided. Frantically, she tried to remember whether there were any other places where they could take shelter. For a while nothing occurred to her and no inns hovered into view. At least she could be thankful that the moon had risen. By its light she noticed an odd-shaped escarpment ahead. Suddenly she remembered her father mentioning to William that there were old mine workings in the sandstone that formed the roots of this area.

      ‘Master…’ She paused remembering that the stranger had still not introduced himself, and then added, ‘No Name, I believe there are caves somewhere around here.’ Her voice sounded loud in the eerie silence. ‘If I remember rightly, copper used to be mined in this area hundreds of years ago.’

      Alex, who had been keeping his eyes peeled for even a hovel, hoped his companion was right. His horse would be too exhausted to travel the following day if they persisted on riding through the night. ‘Can you remember exactly where these caves are, Master Wood?’

      Rosamund looked up at the hill in the moonlight. ‘I did not see them myself, but I remember William being told to follow a stream and that there was a shelf of rock a little way up that hill.’

      ‘We’ll walk and give the horse a rest,’ said Alex, dismounting and holding up a hand. ‘Come, let’s not delay.’

      Rosamund placed her small hand in his and slid down from the horse and almost into his arms. Their bodies collided and she withdrew her hand hastily and stepped away from him. At least a walk would warm her up.

      ‘Stay close,’ murmured Alex, considering not for the first time the smallness of that hand. He seized his horse’s bridle and suggested Master Wood hold on to his cloak so they would not lose each other. Following the sound of running water, he ended up finding the stream by walking into it. He swore in his own tongue and added in English, ‘Step back if you do not want to get your feet wet.’

      ‘Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut about caves,’ muttered Rosamund, certain he would be in a bad mood after getting his boot wet.

      ‘Too late now,’ growled Alex, shaking his foot. ‘Let us not give up. At least there is some moonlight to help us see the way ahead, although perhaps it is best you stay here with the horse whilst I see what I can discover.’

      Rosamund did not want to be left behind, but decided as he seemed to be trusting her with his horse, that she would do as he said.

      It was not long before he called down to her. ‘I have found a shelf of rock. Let us hope that it is the one you mentioned. Bring my horse and help me search for the caves.’

      Rosamund did not need telling twice and was soon standing next to him. They began to search, dislodging small rocks and punctuating the air with the sound of snapping twigs as they looked for an opening. She realised that she was finding a peculiar enjoyment in sharing in the search with him. She wondered what country he came from and whether he had a family waiting for him at home, worrying about him. She recalled his mention of a woman called Ingrid and deduced that, from the way he had spoken about her, that he had once been in love with her, but something had gone wrong, so it was unlikely that he had married her. Perhaps he had married someone else. If so, what was he doing in England, far away from his own country?

      It took some searching, but at last Alex found an opening and called her over. He soon discovered that he had to bend himself almost in half to get inside. The cave was pitch-black, but at least it was out of the wind; as his hands searched the rock face, he realised that the wall was gaining in height and soon he was able to stand upright. When he turned and looked towards the opening, he could see a faint light.

      ‘Shall I come inside?’ called Rosamund.

      ‘No, wait there. I will need to come out.’ His voice seemed to bounce off the walls, causing an echo.

      He felt his way to the outside and stretched. ‘We need a fire,’ he said.

      ‘You have flint and steel?’

      ‘Aye. And tinder. But we will need more kindling and twigs,’ he said.

      ‘There are plenty of them around,’ said Rosamund. ‘I will gather some up.’

      ‘Good man,’ he said, squeezing her shoulder and thinking how slender were the bones. ‘This cave will do us for the night.’

      She was warmed by his praise—she’d had little of that in her life—and set about gathering twigs. In the meantime he unfastened his saddlebags before removing his saddle and throwing a blanket over his horse. He carried both saddle and saddlebags into the cave and dumped them there before going back outside and helping gather firewood.

      When they had collected great armfuls, he told her to take her bundle inside. She obeyed him and was glad to be out of the wind despite the intense velvet blackness inside the cave. She looked towards the faint strip of light and waited for him to follow her. Feeling close to exhaustion, she sank to the ground.

      Rosamund did not have long to wait before she heard the sound of flint against steel. She saw sparks and then a flicker of light in the cave close to the entrance. Tiny flames began to curl about the tinder and she could smell burning. Then the flames grew and eventually there came the crackling of wood. Not long after, it was light enough in the cave for her to see the rosy colour of the sandstone.

      ‘You’ve done it,’ she said, relieved.

      He darted her a glance. ‘Come closer to the fire. I have a pot here and a flagon of ale that I can heat up.’

      ‘I don’t suppose you have any nutmeg and honey?’ she asked wistfully, pushing back her hood, the better to keep an eye on him. Now she could see more clearly his expression and the attractive planes and angles of his face by the light of the fire.

      ‘Then you suppose wrong,’ he said. ‘I once worked for a spice merchant and he paid me in cinnamon and nutmeg. You can have no idea how that pleased my grandmother.’ He took several items from one of the saddlebags.

      So he had a grandmother. ‘You say you once worked for a spice merchant—what do you do now to earn a living?’ she asked.

      ‘You could say that I am a jack of all trades. I enjoy travelling and turn my hand to any task to support myself,’ said Alex smoothly. ‘Are you hungry?’

      ‘Extremely so. But I had resigned myself to go hungry and thirsty this night.’

      ‘I have a little salted pork, a couple of apples and a hunk of wheaten bread and cheese.’ He smiled good humouredly. ‘A meal fit for a king if one is hungry.’

      His smile took her by surprise and she found herself returning his with one of her own and agreeing with him. He seemed less frightening, more approachable than he had done earlier. ‘If I had some СКАЧАТЬ