Free The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) by Nicola Thorne Page A

wiser,’ Hamo whined, and Analee looked at him with contempt; there was a soft side to Hamo and, more than anyone else, he was always grumbling and complaining about the lack of comfort.
    Randal was whittling at a stick, frowning, indecisive for once. She knew he wanted to go on, and yet he was aware of the drawbacks. He glanced at her as though to say why did they not venture on alone and leave the others? She knew what was in his mind, had been for some time. All that prevented him was the presence of his brothers and sister.
    He didn’t displease her; on a cold night she would rather have his body hugging hers than poor Selinda whose thin frame brought no warmth. But she liked things as they were; the dancing, the adventure. If they made love she would have to leave, for she never stayed with casual lovers for more than a night or two. If she wanted to ease the yearning of the flesh she saw nothing wrong with it; but her affections could not be engaged. Her heart was ice-bound like the mountains. It was not to be taken, certainly not by Randal Buckland.
    ‘We best turn back,’ Analee said. ‘We have not eaten well for days, Randal, and Selinda grows even thinner.’
    Analee looked at her with pity; yes, a puny, delicate girl with large eyes black-rimmed with fatigue. She was ill-suited for the road, for the harsh life they led.
    Randal threw his stick into the bushes and took the reins of the pony, circling the cart so that it faced the way they had come. Analee didn’t know why, but the gesture filled her with foreboding and she glanced behind her at the massive wall of rock they were forsaking as though there were something about it that would protect her. Somehow she felt there was some symbolic meaning in the act of turning back, that it was the wrong thing for her to do. She wondered if she should abandon them and go on, press on ever towards the sea?
    Randal was looking at her. He smiled and held out a hand beckoning her on.
    So they turned their backs on the heart of lakeland, and returned the way they had come towards the flat countryside lying between Ullswater and Penrith. Their spirits rose as they found more nourishing food to eat, sometimes given them by crofters or a kindly farmer’s wife.
    In many ways it was an idyllic life in that fine hot summer. Sometimes they would stop in a village and Hamo would get out his fiddle and Benjy his flute, and Analee and Randal would link arms and begin the measured steps of a saraband, Analee accompanying herself on the castanets and Selinda throwing her tambourine high over her head. At the end of an hour or two when the whole village had gathered and some were beginning to drift away, Benjamin would limp around with a bag attached to a stick, going one way and Selinda going the other so that the whole circle of onlookers was encouraged to give a coin or two. Then they would buy food in the village and that night they would eat well.
    Thus they made their way back to Penrith the town perched on a hill, so high that from parts of it you could see into Scotland. The great castle in the centre towered over the narrow streets and houses, which clustered together so that in some places they almost seemed to lean over and touch one another.
    As soon as she came into a town Analee was aware of a constriction that made her long to be away from it again. She hated the feel of cobbles beneath her bare feet, the noise and shouts of those who thronged the streets going about their business. Selinda seemed aware of her fear and moved closer to her.
    ‘We know several of the tavern keepers here and always do a good trade. Sometimes we are asked to one of the great houses in the area. Twice we have played and danced at Lowther Castle, but at night we go to a field outside the town to make our camp. Do not fear.’
    Analee smiled and grasped Selinda’s hand. ‘I do not fear; but I hate towns. Would we could always keep to the open road.’
    Selinda glanced at her companion