Free The Tweedie Passion by Helen Susan Swift Page A

that I was still there or to see if we were being followed, or perhaps both. 'Can you keep up?'
    'I'll try,' I said although in truth I found it very difficult to sit astride my mare with neither stirrups or saddle as we jolted through the night. To be honest it was a bit of a nightmare being jiggled up and down on that horse in the black without knowing where I was or where I was going. I wrapped the mane of my horse around my fingers, gritted my teeth and endured the painful bouncing.
    'They're following,' Hugh broke a long silence with urgent words. 'Can you walk your horse backward?'
    'Walk him backward?' I repeated the words as if I were the class dunce. 'Why ever should I wish to?'
    'Yes or no?' Hugh insisted.
    'Yes I can,' I said. It was a trick that Robert and I had perfected many years ago when we were very young people without a care in the world.
    'Then follow my lead,' Hugh said. He reined up and walked backward, keeping his hooves in line. I followed him, with my nerves screaming at me to kick my heels in and gallop away from the Armstrongs who could not be many hundreds of yards behind us. I could faintly hear their hoarse shouts as they encouraged each other forward and I could feel the vibration of their hooves pounding on the ground.
    'This way,' Hugh said suddenly and broke off the path to the side. I followed with my heart pounding and my nerves jangling as I expected my mount to founder into a patch of bogland with every step. That is the nature of the Tarras Moss you see; it has hidden stretches of deep peat-bog and sudden patches of forest so impenetrable that Jesus himself would struggle to find even the narrowest of straight paths.
    'Keep in sight of me.' Hugh whispered, 'and keep silent.'
    'It is you who is doing the talking,' I told him, more tartly than I intended as my mare slipped and banged me down rather sharply on his back. I gasped and rubbed at myself, wondering if I should have stayed put in the dungeon.
    We moved on, with the horses picking their way slowly along the treacherous ground as the rain hissed down cold and penetrating. That rain may have saved us, uncomfortable though it was, for within a very few minutes it would obscure any trail we left.
    I do not know for how long we rode. I only know that grey dawn was cracking the black of the night when Hugh next spoke. 'We will halt soon,' he said. 'There is a patch of woodland where we will spend the day.'
    I eased myself on my uncomfortable perch and rubbed pointlessly at some of my aches. 'Would we not be better riding by day?' I asked, 'when we can see our way?'
    'This is still Armstrong land,' Hugh explained patiently. 'We are on the bounds of Liddesdale. Do you know which families are there?'
    'Of course I do,' I said, testy because of my myriad aches, particularly the major one on which I sat. 'As well as the Armstrongs there are Elliots, Croziers, Nixons, Turnbulls, Rutherfords, Laidlaws, Halls and Robsons.'
    'Aye, and they are all allied and related to each other; the most predatory riding families in Scotland.' I could sense Hugh looking at me although I was unable to make out his features in the dullness of that bleak dawn. 'Do you really think we would be able to ride through them unchallenged in the full light of day? One man and one maid, on horses without saddle or stirrups and with Wild Will looking for us?'
    I knew he was right although I did not like to admit it. I was stubborn that way. I am still stubborn that way, as any who know me will bear witness to, but that is to jump my story and leave out far too much. 'No,' I said, shortly.
    'Then we do as I say.' There was no triumph in his voice, for which I was grateful. Tired and aching as I was I could not have stood any gloating from a man who had bested me in an argument. I would have burst into tears, or perhaps slapped his face for him. Probably the latter.
    The patch of forest land was open at the edges and became denser the further in we pushed. The light of day