Free By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III by Elizabeth Ashworth

from him to the horses and back again. She shook her head. There had never been the need to ride a horse before. She had never left the castle.
    “Do not be alarmed,” said Sir William. “The mare is very friendly and I will lead her along. Come. I will assist you if you will permit me.”
    Anne had not thought that her captors would be either kind or considerate. The village boy had said that Sir William had slapped him and taken Izzie by force. She had seen the boy’s bruised face. Yet the man standing here seemed well-mannered and respectful.
    “Lady Anne?” She saw that Sir William had cupped his hands to make a step to lift her up onto the horse.
    “I... I am not accustomed to riding,” she said as she met his dark brown eyes.
    “You will be quite safe,” he said. “I promise that no harm will come to you, or your sister Elizabeth. Your guardian has entrusted me with your well-being.”
    “Where is my sister?” ventured Anne.
    “She is safe and she is well. You will be with her in Lancaster by nightfall... if we leave now,” he added in encouragement.
    Anne placed her foot on the folded palms of his hands and felt herself thrown upwards as if she had no weight at all. She grabbed for the saddle to steady herself as her tender parts landed heavily on the hard leather and she let out a slight cry of shock and pain. Sir William helped her find the stirrups then handed her the reins, though he kept a leading rein in his own hand. Anne clung onto the pommel of the saddle. It looked a long way to the ground and she was afraid that she was going to fall.
    “Don’t worry,” said Sir William, patting the horse’s neck, “we will go slowly.”
    The mare moved beneath her and Anne held on tightly as Sir William led it away from Hornby, down the valley of the River Wenning towards Lancaster. Even though her eyesight was not as acute as Izzie’s she could see no besieging army, no battering ram or cannon and as she glanced at the man who led her along she wondered if her aunt had been tricked. Sir William, who had been whistling a tune, turned to smile at her as if he was satisfied that he had her in his possession. Anne looked down at the dark springy mane of her horse and her stomach knotted in a panic that made her want to cry. She turned to look back at Hornby Castle, clinging to the shoulder of the hill. It looked small and as the road dropped it disappeared from view. The countryside around her was unfamiliar and she felt lost.
    The river valley widened as they headed south and the land to the west became flat.
    “The sea,” said Sir William and pointed to a shimmer of grey that stretched to the horizon. “And ahead of us is Lancaster. We will be there soon.”
    Anne watched as a different castle rose into view on a hill in front of them. It was much larger and more imposing than Hornby. “There’s been a fortress here since Roman times,” Sir William told her. He had been pointing out various landmarks all through their journey in an attempt to engage her in conversation, but she had found it impossible to reply and a brief nod was all she could manage now as she stared at the huge stone keep.
    She had heard her uncles speak of Lancaster, but hadn’t realised how large it was compared to Hornby. As they approached she saw that there were more and more houses, some surrounded by gardens where a few goats and cattle grazed and crops grew in neat rows. Then the buildings became crowded together. They reached the walls and passed under a gateway into the centre of the town where the houses jostled for space with shops and forges, inns and cook houses. There was noise and dirt and a foul smell pervading everywhere from the rotting food and excrement piled up waiting to be buried. People moved reluctantly out of their way as the horses almost trod on their ill-shod feet. They stared insolently at Anne and she risked letting go of the saddle with one hand to pull up the hood of her cloak as protection