The Maiden and the Unicorn Read Online Free PDF Page B

the back of the byre. Behind the stable the woman's grandson was waiting with a mare saddled.
    "I cannot thank you sufficiently for what you are doing," Margery whispered, her breath forming vapour in the air for it was so frosty you could almost smell the cold. "Pray Heaven he will not have you punished."
    "I'm not afeared," whispered the elderly woman. "We are the Earl's servants, at least until yesterday. We're helping you for my lord's sake and we pray you will tell him so."
    "It shall not be forgotten." Margery leaned forward and brushed her lips against the withered cheek. "God keep you."
    "You had best take this, my lady." Across the lad's palms lay a kitchen knife, its blade wrapped in a cloth.
    Sticking it in her belt, Margery shivered, wondering not for the first time that night if she was actually clambering out of a cauldron of boiling water onto the burning coals below. With the frosty breath of midnight on her cheek and the blackness of the lane ahead of her, it took all her determination and courage to carry out her plan.
    With a sigh, she set her face to the southwest and led the horse along the track. The rustling in the thickets and the looming shadows dismayed her. She was not used to being alone, especially at night. Without servants to protect her, the highway was as dangerous and unpredictable as the man who had captured her.
    Once past the dark copse and out of sight of the manor buildings, she swung herself awkwardly into the saddle, glad of the stirrup. It was neither easy without a mounting block or a groom's cupped hands to help her, nor had she counted on using a man's saddle. Like the Kingmaker's daughters, she was used to riding side-saddle on a docile mount. Now she found it unnatural to sit astride and the mare, sensing her new rider's discomfort, misbehaved, wasting valuable moments as Margery sought to establish which of them was in control and to stop the creature turning for home.
    The lad's directions served her well. She passed the village, averting her eyes from the churchyard. The horse was still testing her. It sensed her fear, reacting as much as its rider to every rustle, every moving shadow. As she rode past the last cottage, the beast shied as something hurtled through the air with a feline hiss inches from its hooves and a dog in pursuit came bounding across their path. At the sight of the larger animal, the cur stopped and growled, its hackles raised. The mare was agitated, edging sideways. Margery dug her heels desperately into its flanks and urged it on. The beast eventually complied, the dog snapping ill-naturedly at its fetlocks before it gave voice to a full-throated bark.
    "Faster, faster," Margery whispered against the mane of the mare as if it could understand. She looked back but contrary to her expectations no sleepy scratching villager had staggered outside into the cold to investigate.
    The road west led swiftly out into wooded country. It would be folly now to slacken pace. It was difficult holding on but she managed out of desperation for indeed the drumming hooves would rouse any rogue that slumbered within earshot. She slowed the horse to a trot as the road climbed steeply. An evil-looking wood hemmed her in on one side while on her left hand a dark hedgerow ran thickly. Ahead of her at the crest of the hill, she thought she glimpsed a figure cross the road, outlined against the sky. She could not be sure whether it was a hunched man or a beast. She reined the mare to a halt, listening intently but there was no sound. Noting where the figure had crossed, she edged the horse closer, pausing again to listen. This time somewhere in the woods ahead a twig cracked as it would at the passage of a man or, please God, a deer.
    It left her with no choice but to gallop past as swiftly as she could. Not an easy task, given the steepness of the hill. She edged the horse forward at a slow trot for another fifty paces and paused again to listen. This time there was a total