Freezing Dawn

There was no snow in the freezing dawn light as Edgar brought the horse and cart to the hut. The dawn broke red in the east as scudding dark clouds raced across the sky. Learmouth climbed on to the seat cloaked, hooded and wrapped against the cold. Edgar, hungry since no breakfast had been offered and feeling hard done to by Learmouth, stood up, held the reins in one hand, his horse whip in the other, thrashed the reins and the horse moved off willingly. Edgar lashed the whip at the horse’s withers. The cruel whip cracked, dong! the gong sounded, and instead of hitting the horse the whiplash hit Edgar around the neck so hard it knocked him clean out of the cart. The horse started, expecting a stab of pain, and the cart rolled over Edgar’s foot, howling in pain and rage he hopped after the cart while trying to loosen the whip from around his neck.

 Learmouth reached calmly for the reins and brought the poor horse to a halt, he gave Edgar a cold stare as he climbed back on board the cart and returned the reins without a word.

As the sky cleared the temperature plummeted, frost formed a thick crust on top of the snow, they made slow progress with Edgar pushing the cart through deep snow drifts while Learmouth remained on the seat. It was late evening when they passed over the drawbridge into Netherton Keep, Edgar leading the tired mare and holding a lantern to see the way.

Learmouth stepped down saying, “ Stable and feed the nag.”

Edgar was minded to leave the mare hungry, however, the cold grey eyes told him otherwise, and he took the mare from the harness and led her to the stable where there was hay and water and reasonably clean bedding straw. He closed the bottom half of the stable door and slid the bolt closed as the mare turned around. Edgar saw his chance, as the mare put her head over the top of the half door he aimed a punch at her. Dong went the gong, Edgar slipped, spun round and crashed his head into the stone wall of the stable.

 

          Learmouth entered the keep to find Morgana, her father, the Crone and Mirless finishing their supper by a blazing fire. The keep had undergone a huge change, there were expensive rugs on the stone floors, dark green velvet curtains on gleaming brass rails were hung over the windows. Torches in brackets on the walls provided light, two huge candelabras hung from the ceiling at each end of the rectangular room, another fireplace on one side blazed cheerfully.

 A long highly-polished table ran half the length of the room with chairs to match,  solid oak bookshelves polished with bees wax, down each side, filled with the best leather-bound books, brass vases filled with holly and mistletoe were set on side tables . The finest tapestries money could buy were hung along the other walls,  all of them magnificent. The Netherton Coat of Arms was illuminated by the light of the main fireplace, all in all it looked like the home of a very wealthy merchant farmer.

The Crone’s plan was working well.  Netherton, fortunately, was well above sea level, and the rivers had not been affected by the floods and their corn would sell at high prices, all the farms had tenants, the buildings and houses either rebuilt or refurbished to a very high standard. A dozen servants were employed to clean, maintain and polish the keep. The once filthy kitchen gleamed on every surface. The Crone, in her disguise as a tutor, had a new a  wing for her own use.

Learmouth Returns

Learmouth was satisfied with the progress so far, he was back in England. The rendezvous secure, five blood-red crosses indicated five visits kept, he had arrived in time for the sixth and the final rendezvous was tomorrow at night fall. He would travel under cover of darkness, if moonlight permitted, to Netherton Keep to meet his sister the Crone Blackmorn.

Edgar the coachman arrived at the secret rendezvous as he had five times before ,expecting no one to be there, he arrived in a snow storm late in the afternoon, several inches of fresh snow covered the ground; the north wind blew the snow into swirling white drifts. He was driving a two- wheeled cart, slowly making his way against the driving snow, the horse was the first to see the shepherds hut and quickened its pace, eager to find a shelter it knew. Head down it pulled the cart straight into the lean-to stable that, though cold, was at least out of the freezing wind and snow.

Edgar, still cruel and uncaring to animals, left the horse in harness, broke the ice on the water trough and threw a little hay where it could just reach, then left the horse shivering as the fresh snow melted on its back. Edgar trudged through the thickening snow to the door of the hut and banged six times on the door, six the number of crosses, six the number of the secret rendezvous. Learmouth unbarred the door, opened it dagger in hand, and pulled Edgar roughly inside so that he

          Learmouth barred the door turned to Edgar and said,  “Were you followed?”

“No my Lord.”

“Then bring food and wine and take care of the horse, I don’t care when it dies, but it can do so after we get to Netherton.”

Edgar obeyed, rubbed down the horse took it out of harness and led it to a stall, and returned through the snow muttering to himself,

“Ungrateful that’s what they are, all them Blackmorns and the Learmouth’s.”

Edgar busied himself making a simple stew with the food he’d brought,  Learmouth  drank the wine, offering none to Edgar.

Dark Hood And Dark Deeds

Learmouth accepted this news with silence as he departed the long ship for his accommodation onshore. He shook the rainwater from his white blond hair and pulled up his sodden cloak over his shoulders, he hadn’t spoken a word to any of the crew save the Captain, then only to tell him the landfall in England. Once he had gained the shelter of the small stone-built grass-roofed hut he settled down to wait. Learmouth was good at waiting, he had been waiting twenty years since he escaped from England, following Blackmorns treasonous attempt upon the King’s life.

          He was a thin man with white blond hair grown long to his shoulders; his eyebrows were so fair that they were almost invisible, as were his pale ginger white eyelashes. He had a thin pointed nose and a chin so weak receding from his pale lips; Learmouth’s black rimmed eyes, sunk in their sockets, were a pale emotionless grey.

 He left his miserable damp hut once every day to check the progress of the repairs to the ship. Every day at noon regardless of the wind and rain he would watch for an hour silently, standing stock still shrouded in his travelling cloak with the hood up. Learmouth would stand overlooking the ship for thirteen consecutive days, until the repairs were finished and the winds were favorable, he joined the ship in silence just as he had on the very first occasion.

 

                                                          *

It was bitterly cold in the open long ship, yet Learmouth showed no sign of discomfort, he ate sparingly and drank only water from his own supplies, occasionally he checked for his only weapon, a thin bladed pointed dagger that he concealed in his boot; he regretted the loss of his vials of poison, the last storm had ruined them all.

 On this the last day of the voyage, the fifth since he had left the rugged Norwegian shore, the Northumberland coast, just a faint line of grey on the western horizon. Learmouth instructed the Captain to wait till nightfall, nightfall comes early in winter in Northumberland as twilight fell, the sky turned red in the west. The ship sailed in on the rising tide close to the shore. A rowing boat was made ready for the final leg of Learmouth’s North Sea crossing.

          When all was ready, Learmouth pointed to a young Norseman and said, “He rows.”

The young Norseman was, as Learmouth knew very well, the Captain’s son. Learmouth took from his cloak two bags of gold coins, gave one to the Captain saying,

          “Half now and the other when I am ashore.”

 Then he climbed expertly over the side of the long ship, down into the rowing boat that was dancing on the near-shore waves. It began to snow as he was rowed towards the shore, he could hear the waves crashing on the sandy beach as the rowing boat pitched and rolled in the increasing surf. He thought of killing the oarsman and keeping the gold, changed his mind only because he feared discovery of a rowing boat and a body.

          Learmouth slipped over the stern of the rowing boat by moonlight, gasped as he was immersed in the ice cold water up to his chest. He threw the bag of gold into the boat and waded silently ashore. He emerged from the freezing water shivering as he climbed across the sand dunes and began to run in a gentle jog, not for haste, simply to keep warm.

Following the North Star for direction he came to the banks of the River Wansbeck, and there turned inland; at midnight, with the snowfall increasing, he arrived at a small stone-built shepherd’s cottage. Long disused but still dry enough to provide shelter and warmth. He found wood for the fire, tinder and flint lay ready, they soon provided warmth and light.

Learmouth Arrives

Spies in the North

 Winter began in earnest in November that year, howling westerly gales, blowing over trees and tearing off the roofs of exposed buildings, it rained heavily for a month; roads impassable as rivers burst their banks, whole towns and villages devastated by floods. There wasn’t a town or village in the Country that had not been affected in some way or other, trade and movement of livestock was at a standstill, the worst floods in living memory, dark rain-sodden clouds raced overhead day after day. Farmers struggled to provide for their animals, moving them to higher ground away from the raging rivers, the people did the best they could during  these desperate days, and still the rain fell unendingly .

          These same westerly gales also prevented the long ship from approaching the English coastline. The ship had been forced back day after day; seven times during November the North Sea crossing had been attempted and seven times the Norse long ship had been forced to return to harbour. On the last attempt the ship had nearly foundered on the rocky coast of Norway. The Captain of the long ship, an excellent seaman, refused to endanger his ship and crew any further, and told his single passenger he needed time in port to repair his damaged mast and rigging.

          Learmouth accepted this news with silence as he departed the long ship for his accommodation onshore. He shook the rainwater from his white blond hair and pulled up his sodden cloak over his shoulders, he hadn’t spoken a word to any of the crew save the Captain, then only to tell him the landfall in England. Once he had gained the shelter of the small stone-built grass-roofed hut he settled down to wait. Learmouth was good at waiting, he had been waiting twenty years since he escaped from England, following Blackmorns treasonous attempt upon the King’s life.

          He was a thin man with white blond hair grown long to his shoulders; his eyebrows were so fair that they were almost invisible, as were his pale ginger white eyelashes. He had a thin pointed nose and a chin so weak receding from his pale lips; Learmouth’s black rimmed eyes, sunk in their sockets, were a pale emotionless grey.

 He left his miserable damp hut only once every day to check the progress of the repairs to the ship. Every day at noon regardless of the wind and rain he would watch for an hour silently, standing stock still shrouded in his travelling cloak with the hood up. Learmouth would stand overlooking the ship for thirteen consecutive days, until the repairs were finished and the winds were favourable, he joined the ship in silence just as he had on the very first occasion.

 

                                      *

Jake The Famous Dog

The Inn was becoming steadily more crowded, and it was the usual jovial crowd of villagers gathering, keen to hear the news from Valorholm and to meet and greet their famous guests. The cheerfulness of Marlton on a fine early  evening rapidly altered the moods of Linnaeus and Jenkins, who had been joined by Jack’s parents and Molly Brewer who was passing their table carrying a large flagon of ale.

“Now then, Molly tell me true, is the bull I’ve bought as good as it’s supposed to be?”

“Gentle as a lamb,” Molly replied, “He may even be here by now. Henry Farmer is to leave him for you in Tom’s paddock at the forge.”

“Good, good. Now then, my wager…” he said to the crowd in general.

“No doubt, no doubt at all that this dog”…. he pointed to Jake who was asleep at Tom’s feet “…is a remarkable dog, but herding chickens!?

I had a Welsh Collie who tried to herd kittens once ‘til their mother scratched him on the nose end, but chickens!?”

His eyes were screwed up in merriment, highlighting his laughter wrinkles. He insisted upon hearing the whole tale from the very beginning; the spilled beer and the subterfuge, and he howled with laughter at the description of little tots smuggling beer from the cellar. He insisted upon all the details right to the end of the tale, even the gate of the chicken coop closing.

When at last he was able to compose himself, he said, “Well, by God, if it’s the case, I believe two gold shillings each to the Kings will be well worth the price. Now then, what we need to do is demonstrate this, for seeing is believing.” He continued, “What say we ask Lord William to declare a feast day, the day after tomorrow and Linnaeus and I will donate a barrel of beer and a hog to roast!”

          “Good idea!” confirmed Linnaeus.

By the next evening plans were well under way. Jenkins insisting that everything should be as close as possible to the original event, even down to the little ones smuggling beer. The original smugglers were now too big to pass unnoticed under Molly Brewers kitchen window but there were plenty of younger siblings and cousins eager to play the part.

Word of the upcoming feast and the added attraction of the chicken herding wager spread rapidly. The inn was full and people from the nearby villages were arriving to stay with friends and family. Marlton was very proud of itself, not every village could boast of under- fifteen champion archers and a chicken herding dog as well as two such famous guests.

Trestle tables were being laid out and the fire made ready to cook the hog that Linnaeus and Jenkins donated. A hog this size would take several hours to roast it cooked slowly, giving off a delicious aroma. The sun rose in the sky, the dew vanished and the crowd gathered as the smell of the roast began to spread. Most of the villagers brought food from home and laid the dishes on the tables. Lord William instructed the Manor house cooks to prepare pies of all kinds and roasted capons, and the bakers to make breads and puddings.

When all was ready Lord William banged his sword hilt on the table and began his speech.

“Ladies, Gentlemen… and Wizard!” he called, bowing.

“We are here to witness the wager between Master Bowman Jenkins, who believes the existence of a chicken-herding dog improbable, and Kings’ Idris and Edwin who believe that Jake the dog can indeed do as the legend explains!”

Rob and Jack took up their positions turning the roast hog at Jenkins insistence. Three of the little village boys eagerly ran off to sneak round the back of the Inn and opened the gate of Molly Brewers chicken pen, the little ones clutching the empty flagons were ready to sneak around the back of the inn. Jake took his position with the third group of the village children, still eager as ever to join in and disburse the chickens.

Jenkins howling with laughter, especially at the little smugglers who were taking their duties very seriously, as Alfred Brewer sent them to their tasks. Jake barked as he had done years before and the chickens scattered. Tom, who had been silent till now, whistled for Jake to come to heel.

“Now Jake lets show them how good you are! Way by, Jake!”

 Jake went off to the left and nudged the furthest chickens towards the centre of the village green.

“Come by Jake!” instructed Tom.

          Jake trotted around to the right side of the green and edged several more of Molly Brewers chickens towards the centre. Tom saw that the chickens were becoming unsettled and he whistled and Jake lay down with only his pricked up ears to show his intense concentration.

With the chickens now settled, “Come ahead Jake!”

          Jake crawled ahead, moving the chickens closer together. Tom and Jake repeated this process going to the left, to the right, and ahead until the chickens, around twenty of them, were congregated close to the gate. The chickens were growing accustomed to the dog by this time and sensed no threat from him.

          “Lie down Jake!” called Tom.

“Throw a handful of corn into the pen, Paul,” said Tom to one of the village lads who had years before been one of the original little smugglers. Some of the chickens nearest the gate saw the corn and went to feed, all the while Jake crawled, lay down and went left and right as Tom talked to him rather than commanding him. Once a quarter of the chickens were either inside the pen or close to the gate Tom said,

 “Another handful please, Paul.” The corn was thrown as Jake moved the flock of chickens forward once more, and when around half of them were in the pen and feeding, the others turned and walked calmly into the pen to join the rest. Paul promptly closed the pen gate. There was a huge cheer and applause, accompanied by a couple of muted barks and a wagging tail from Jake.

“Amazing!” cried Jenkins.

“Outstanding!” agreed Linnaeus.

          “That’s the finest wager I have ever lost!” continued Jenkins, banging his hand upon the table top.

Tears of joy in Jenkins bright blue eyes, his ruddy complexion confirming his delight, deep laughter wrinkles clearly visible around his eyes. The impromptu feast day was a huge success, with dancing and feasting lasting way into the evening, Jenkins still howling with laughter slapping his ample thigh, as he relived the little four and five year olds smuggling beer with such a serious intent.

Marathon

In the long run, you’ll be glad its over!

via Daily Prompt: Marathon

Mardokites Is What They Are

Linnaeus leaned forwards and, lowering his voice, told Jenkins of Rob’s hilltop stranger, his questioning about the Wizardly William and Mirless, how he’d kept his back to the sun and Rob, too young to understand that he had been questioned by an expert, who gained knowledge but gave none in return. His solitary mistake was mentioning the heliograph.  After pouring them both a tankard of ale Linnaeus went on, “Our poorly dressed stranger clearly has some knowledge…” said Linnaeus darkly.

“But Linnaeus, all that dark hoods and black druid business died out with the Blackmorn’s, did it not?”

“Well, my friend firstly let’s not have any talk of Druids, black or white, an old wives tale embellished by half-truths over the years, between us let’s call these monsters by their proper name! Mardokites is what they are…” replied Linnaeus as he watched the colour drain from Jenkins face. as he remembered the day when he and Wessex had save the Kin. No proof had ever been found but rumors abounded,  of base treachery and deceit and a list of traitors linked to the Mardokites

“They have been around for five hundred years and more,  it would be a quite arrogant of us to assume that our generation wiped them out completely. Let’s look at what we know. The Crone has escaped, Rob was interrogated by a professional and Jack and you saw a hooded rider, but only because he was illuminated by lightning otherwise you’d never have seen him. Let’s not forget we had no idea the Blackmorns’ would attempt to kill the King all those years ago.” Linnaeus paused, drank some a ale, and went on:

“That’s what we do know. These events may be mere coincidence, but just in case they are not, we should all be on the lookout for any sign of them. The Blackmorns and their treasonous friends are very much weakened, that’s for sure, but gone completely and forever I very much doubt. If history tells us anything at all they will always come back and try to have us all live in ignorance and fear. I will speak to the King and, meanwhile, let us increase our watchfulness. They have always used allies when they needed them, and will find few in this Kingdom.”

“The Norsemen?” whispered Jenkins

Two Wet Men And One Dry Dog

CHAPTER 6

 

 

The Bowman’s Tutorage

 Jake, the dog, was the first to see Rob and Linnaeus as they entered the village, whilst they tethered their horses at the Inn. Jake greeted Linnaeus and Rob with several loud barks and tail wagging furiously. The greeting was not without confusion as Jake then looked around for Jack. Rob ruffled his head saying, “Don’t worry, Jake. He won’t be long.”

Rob’s father, Alfred Miller, came out of the arched stone doorway to take the horses to the stables.

“Good journey?” he enquired.

“Yes!” replied Linnaeus, “The mirror worked well.”

As he took off his saddlebags and walked inside he said, “I’m glad to be here,” looking up at the sky, “I think Jack and Jenkins are in for a thorough drenching.”

Thunder clouds, dark and forbidding, were gathering overhead as Jack and Jenkins rode towards Marlton. They still had a good twelve miles to go, and they too were looking at the darkening sky when they heard the first distant peel of thunder.

Jenkins reached into his saddle bags and pulled out two oil skin cloaks, handing one to Jack.

“Pull up the hood if it rains heavy,” Jenkins said.

The storm began in earnest when they still had ten miles to go. There was a flash of lightening followed quickly by a crash of thunder that prompted a torrential downpour. Both of the horses side-stepped nervously as the sky darkened further, after another dreadful crash of thunder, lightning now directly overhead, the horses rapidly becoming  distressed and threatened to dismount their riders, so Jenkins and Jack dismounted and calmed them.

They walked on and seeing no obvious shelter, they decided to carry on to Marlton village. The road quickly filled with puddles and became slippery under foot;  as they trudged on, a grinning Jenkins turned to Jack and said, “Aye Jack this is what makes it green.”

The oilskin cloaks were not entirely waterproof, and Jack was getting soaked right through as they waded across a couple of steams that hours before they could have ridden across. The rain fell almost vertically and was ice cold. Soaked through, they carried on at a snail’s pace on the steeper parts of the road. The storm seemed to be keeping pace with them, with no let-up in sight. Another hour they walked, side by side, conversation impossible over the drenching rain. Three hours later, and still six miles from Marlton, at last the rains began to thin, and they could see the road to the last hill top before Marlton. The dying storm gave one last bright flash of lightening that illuminated a hooded rider in silhouette on the crest of the hill. Oddly, the stranger was not head down trudging home as Jenkins and Jack were, the silhouette was mounted and side on to the road as though he was looking back towards them.

“Did you see him, Jack?” said Jenkins

“Yes, just for a second.”

“Odd that…” continued Jenkins, rain streaming down his nose, “Looks like he is heading north, not by any of the usual ways though.”

The village of Marlton was illuminated in shafts of evening sunlight, shining through gaps in the cloud as the storm faded away into the east. The air cleared and their nostrils caught the wonderful fresh smell that comes after heavy rain. Jake, sensible as ever, was inside the inn and out of the rain with Linnaeus and Rob, when his ears pricked up, he was up in an instant and barking at the door.

“That will be them now,”  said Rob, as he opened the door.

Jake was off like an arrow racing up the hill to meet Jack. Shortly afterwards, all three arrived. Two soaked right through and one dry dog.

Free From The Shadows

Now free from the shadows and basking in the last of the evening sunshine Rob gentled the horse back to a walk, the feeling of being watched and followed disappeared, and Rob, like all boys of his age sometimes wanting to be a lot older than his years, determined not to mention his gallop away from a shadow and what was probably just the noise of a deer in the woods. That’s it he thought,  just a deer or maybe a boar and put his fears out of his mind.

Jenkins greeted him cheerfully as he arrived at the Three Millers and invited him to sit while they waited for Linnaeus and Jack. Then the four of them enjoyed a wonderful dinner and a good night’s sleep in comfortable four poster beds. Up again early as always with Linnaeus, they set out with Linnaeus explaining that Jack and Jenkins would travel to the hill where Linnaeus was yesterday, Wolfrick would move to the same place that Rob had been and the new squire to the tower,  Rob and Linnaeus off to the top of the last peak before Marlton. It was a good days ride to the peak that Linnaeus had chosen, and it was during this days ride that Rob mentioned the stranger to Linnaeus,

He began by asking what a heligrap was?

“A what Rob?” asked the Wizard

“Well it sounded like heligrap or something,” and then he told of the stranger and his questions. Linnaeus halted his horse and looked intently at Rob,

“Did he say Heliograph Rob?”

“Yes that was it, but he kept his back to the sun and I couldn’t make him out very well.”

“Tell me Rob, exactly what did he ask?” So Rob relayed the stranger’s questions, and, upon seeing the serious expression on the Wizard’s face, his feeling of being followed and watched in the wood before the Three Millers.

“His face Rob, can you describe him?”

“No, not at all, he had a way of keeping me squinting into the sun.”

“His voice then Rob, any accent you could recognise?”

“Well, he didn’t talk much, it was a bit like Jenkins but not so Welsh,” said Rob, “very like Lord Wessex’s groom and some of his Knights from down near Cornwall.”

“Did he now? Did he indeed!  Rob you may mention this to Jenkins and to Jack. For the moment you must swear to me that you will tell no one else. Breathe not a word of this to any other.“

It was a very shocked and slightly afraid Rob that gave his solemn vow to a stern-faced Linnaeus. Who then put the matter entirely out of his countenance and carried on pleasantly. The rest of the day was taken up with the signal mirrors; their mission accomplished, and Linnaeus very content with the experiment, they walked their mounts gently down to Marlton Village

A Gallop For Rob!

“Good afternoon,” Rob replied civilly.

“Now young Sir, please can you tell me if I have arrived in time for Valorholm Fair?”

“Unfortunately not, it ended yesterday.”

Rob was unable to see the stranger’s face to tell whether or not this news was good or bad.

”Now then young Sir, I have heard that Linnaeus may still be found in Valorholm?”  The cloaked stranger left the question hanging.

 “Normally yes but not today, he is travelling, in fact Linnaeus and my friend are due to meet in the Three Millers Inn tonight, it’s about two hours ride along the north road.”

 “And the direction?” asked the hooded man.

 Rob, still squinting, moved so that he could see the stranger in a little more comfort; imperceptibly the stranger moved his horse, so that Rob gave up and looked away from the light, pointing out the general direction of the way to the Three Millers Inn.

          “Most grateful young master, and is Valorholm your home young Sir?”

 “No I’m from Marlton.”

“Marlton is it, is that not where there is a child that is Wizardly and were there not two named?”

 “Yes that’s right,” answered Rob trying again to look at the stranger.

“The other child is from Valorholm?”

“No I think he is from much further North, I was just nine or so at the naming, his mother is Lady Morgana, that’s about all I know of her, she lives in King Edwin’s land north of here.”

 Rob remembered his duties and looked towards the distant hill and saw the three distinct flashes of light from the signal mirror.

“Excuse me I must do this now.” He angled the mirror and signalled one, two, three to Wolfrick. Attentive to his duty as always, back came three distinctive flashes from Wolfrick in Valorholm. Rob then flashed the mirror angled at the distant hill four times and the reply was instant from Linnaeus and Jack.

“Tell young sir, what game of mirrors is this?”

“Not games at all, we are helping Linnaeus, he is there with my friend Jack,” said Rob pointing at the hilltop in the distance.

The stranger leaned forward, his face still deep in shadow

“Linnaeus is there?” he said pointing at the far off hilltop.

“And Wolfrick there atop Linnaeus’s tower,” Rob pointed out.

“And what use would a Wizard such as Linnaeus have with a heliograph?”

“With a what?” asked Rob

“No matter,” said the stranger quickly, “just thinking out loud.”

Rob packed up his mirror and wrapped it carefully, mounted his horse, looked round for the stranger and saw him moving on to the north, without a word of farewell, blending in to the countryside so well, it was difficult to see as the cloaked rider disappeared into the trees.

Rob had a vaguely uneasy feeling as he rode towards the Three Millers, he knew nothing of this stranger, whereas the stranger had learned all he needed to from Rob. Rob halted his horse several times on the road to the Three Millers, certain that he was being watched and followed, this feeling increased as time went on.    

The road he was following turned into a valley bottom, here with the sun behind the hills, where the trees grew tall and close together the lengthening shadows increased his fears. He stopped , listening and looking very carefully, sure he had heard another horse and rider some distance behind. He nudged his horse into a trot, eager to be out of the shadowy woodlands , the horse was eager too and was soon at a gallop through the bottom of the valley. Gradually  the trees opened out, the light  brighter as the road widened. With a huge feeling of relief boy and horse passed through the woods and climbed out of the valley. Cresting the hill he saw, just a mile further on, the Three Millers with its water wheel turning in the mill race. Built in the same style as Valorholm – stone ground floor, half-timbered upper floor and a thatched roof – the mill itself took up almost half the building with a courtyard and stables. Behind the mill in an L shape was the Inn.

Now free from the shadows and basking in the last of the evening sunshine Rob gentled the horse back to a walk, the feeling of being watched and followed disappeared, and Rob, like all boys of his age sometimes wanting to be a lot older than his years, determined not to mention his gallop away from a shadow and what was probably just the noise of a deer in the woods. That’s it he thought,  just a deer or maybe a boar and put his fears out of his mind.