The Road to Hever
The pace they set to Hever was not the rapid, pounding one of yesterday. They had only a three-hour ride. They chatted and pointed things out to each other along the way. Staff was clearly loath to have it end and to lose her again. She accepted that fact willingly—happily. She had asked him to stay the night at Hever before he set off for the court at Eltham. Of course, he would have to stay the night, she reasoned, for it would be dark soon after dinner and the roads would be totally unsafe. And then after dinner, she would ask him to please visit little Harry at Hatfield and to explain the loss of his father, of the father he had not seen for weeks and would never see again.
Mary felt better rested and her head clearer than it had been since Will had died, maybe the best she had felt since the whole court had vacated Hampton and left her there with Will. Although the day was hot, the forest path and lanes were cool in their deep shade. Except for the cleared fields surrounding little Oxted just ahead, they would be out of the burning sun until they reached the gentle valley and water meadows of the Eden—all the way home.
They did not stop to rest at Oxted, a feudal hamlet almost untouched by modern times. Skinny hunt hounds lay in the shade of the few houses switching flies with their tails, and few people were abroad.
“I wonder if they even know here who is king or about such things as the bad feelings toward the French since the Cloth of Gold?” she said to Staff over the clatter of their horses’ cantering hoofs.
“I doubt it, lass. They are still grateful in these parts that the War of Roses had not caused devastation to their fields. Is this on your father’s title rights yet?”
“No. Not until five miles past here. There is a clear marker on the forest road.”
“Of course, there would be. If this land were in fealty to Lord Thomas Bullen, it would say so clearly somewhere.” They laughed together at all his comment implied, and left the scattered clearings of Oxted far behind.
Mary was unfamiliar with this stretch to Hever for, whenever she had traveled, they had kept to the main road and not ridden southeast from out-of-the-way Banstead. She had been on this route, but she hardly remembered it at all. The forest was thick here and there was a damp chill in the air. More than once, startled deer feeding near the lane raised their liquid brown eyes in fear and darted from their sight. And then, around a small dip in the road it all happened suddenly. There were three tree trunks across their path, and although Staff’s stallion Sanctuary took the first two in one great vault and easily leapt the other, Mary’s Eden jerked, shied and nearly threw her over her arched neck. Staff wheeled about and, when he saw Mary was still ahorse, drew his sword noisily. Instantly, the narrow space exploded with many horses and men, and Mary heard herself scream in frightened surprise. No, there were only three men and two horses. Staff slashed at one lout holding a terrible broad sword against his one thin-bladed one. The man on foot grabbed for her reins and she screamed again as Eden reared, knocking him back.
The man dashed forward and yanked at Eden’s bridle before Mary could turn the mare, and the horse’s head bent low. It was then she remembered she wore a sword and that she was supposed to be a lad, but with her foolish screaming they would know she was no fighter now. As she tried to draw the sword, the burly bearded man with eyes and hair as black as coal grabbed for her waist to drag her from the horse. Mary scratched out at his face with her nails and shuddered in terror as she felt them dig into his eyes and face. He cursed and loosed her to cover his eyes in pain.
It seemed all one tiny instant since she had seen Staff, but as she glanced up again, the scene had totally revolved. Staff’s attacker lay on the ground and he fought the other horsed man sword to sword, spurring Sanctuary forward. He wore no spurs, but he backed the robber’s mount toward the logs in the road with hard kicks of his boots on his stallion’s huge ribcage. That was all she saw: then a cruel yank threw her into the bloodied man’s arms.
“No!” she shrieked at him, “No!” She flailed out as they hit the ground together. She heard her sword thud behind her. Her hair cascaded loose over them both.