Free Gisborne: Book of Pawns by Prue Batten Page B

fields, men stilled their oxen from ploughing and their wiv es ceased collect ing the weeds in sacks or trugs, the seasonal work broken for a moment as they watched and wondered. The rich tilled earth provided a foil to the greener fields close by. I could imagine the scene painstakingly translated on parchment or vellu m with a skilled hand laying down colour and then transcribing words that might indicate the seasons or the ho urs of the day in any month – a scene in a book that Guy would love I was sure.
    We had many leagues to cover and I could feel my legs tiring, the inhuman stretch of my thighs across Monty’s back threatening to unseat me. Periodically over difficult stretches of the road, when it narrowed or when we approached large trave ll ing groups, we wou ld slow to a walk on the cry of a disembodied voice far ahead. The command would feed back through the ranks and thanking God for the reprieve, I would stand in my stirrups to stretch my legs. Once I even thrust one leg over Monty’s wither, jamming my thighs together to try and rest them, but Guy glanced over and frowned and I desisted, groaning as I felt for t he stirrup and heard the call to canter on.
    The distance we traveled passed in a blur a nd I lost interest in the surroundin gs, discomfort tainting everything. When we finally halted at midday, barely a single part of my body was without pain and I dreaded the moment of dismount, knowing that dressed as a young man I must do without Gisborne’s strong hands to help me. I gritted my teeth and jumped down, falling against Monty’s damp shoulder.
    ‘Can you man age?’ Gisborne moved in next to me as I closed my eyes and lay my for ehead on the horse’s shoulder. His hand reache d around my waist as I sagged. ‘Ysabe l,’ he whispered. ‘Alright ?’
    A soldier dressed in the unknown black livery walked past looking for trees aga inst which to relieve himself. He glanced at us with open c uriosity, his gaze fixing on Gisborne ’s enclosing hand.
    ‘It’s too loose,’ said Guy as his finge rs slipped behind Monty’s girth. ‘Make sure you tigh ten it before we mount again.’ He muttered to the soldier as he turned away. ‘Can’t find a decent squire for love n or money.’
    Love nor money.
    The soldier nodded and proceeded to piss in full view aga inst the trunk of an oak. Gisborne turned to me whilst the soldier had his hands full and lifted his eyebrows. His mood seemed lighter to be sure and I wondered if it was because each league we covered we were one league closer to England.
    I gave passing thought to the way his moods shifted and whether I could cope with his tortuo us mindsets in the long term. But then I cast my mind back to the many kindnesses he had shown me as he was forced to reveal my fami ly’s straitened circumstances. I decided that despite his dour and withdrawn moments, despite his callous philosophy of status being power, he had shown me respect. And in all honesty, there remained in me the faintest hope th at I would find Moncrieff safe and my father happy to have his da ughter once again in the fold.
     

Chapter Five
     
     
    Monty’s coat became slick with lather despite his astonishing stamina a nd as I looked between his ears I marveled at the campaign animals in front of me. I could only imagine the courage and steadfastness that rushed through their veins.
    We stopped twice more for short rests until the final longed-for halt was called. In flat , tussocky land that spread for miles we stopped to make camp. To our right flank was an immense coppice of spindly birches, their leaves the acid green of spring, most in bud a nd summer not far away. A stream sketched a lang uid line from its distant source , trickling past our feet to flow to the coast far off. It barely ran and I wondered if every horse would suck it dry.
    Guy was close and o ur eyes met and I could see he felt sympathy for me and what he had put me through with this subterfuge. And yet I u