Page 7 of Witchbane

I stared at the dark green, steeply dropping lane and, taking a deep breath, urged Warrior on. He took a few fretful steps backwards, raising his head in defiance. Clearly he was as reluctant to go this way as I was.

‘Come along, boy, it’s fine.’ I stroked his muscular neck and squeezed my legs against his flank. ‘Let’s go.’

He took a tentative step forward, then, calming slightly, began walking down the lane where legend had it that the Vioge, a flesh-eating creature, cracked travellers’ ankles so they couldn’t run away and escape his clutches. He then dragged them to his lair to eat their flesh. I shuddered, remembering why I had been too frightened to come this way as a child.

I passed a small run-down cottage to my right where it was said a witch lived, but this was something I thought silly nonsense. I was surprised by how often a poor or unkempt woman was accused of witchcraft. It seemed to me a cowardly way of dealing with a woman someone had taken against, and it infuriated me. I did believe witches existed, but I had yet to witness any cavorting with the Devil, and I doubted they caused crops to spoil, or illness in others.

So far, all I had come across was what I believed to be herbalists, or possibly green witches: women, and some men, who foraged for herbs and plants to turn into salves, creams and other medicinal blends. If they made their living selling these wares, then I couldn’t see the harm in it. Then again, I hadn’t lived on the island for the past decade, so I kept my thoughts to myself, aware I might just think this way because I was yet to see the darker side of sorcery that my father was determined to gouge out of society.

I thought of the supposed witch in Crack Ankle Lane. Surely if my father believed her to practise witchcraft, then he would have arrested her by now. As he hadn’t, I couldn’t see why there was any reason to believe the gossip.

A crow burst out of the hedgerow to my right, spooking Warrior. He snorted in fright and reared, hitting his head on a small branch and causing me to hit mine on a much thicker one. Within a second I was falling. The last thing I saw was Warrior bolting down the slippery lane. Never mind me breaking my ankle, I thought, terrified, as my body smacked against the ground, what if my horse broke one of his legs?

Chapter Four

RUE

Ireached out to pick a buttercup from the bank beside me. The sound of a horse squealing wrenched through the air followed by an immediate thump. I stilled, trying to work out what could have happened. My breath caught in my throat as I heard heavy hooves cantering towards me from higher up the lane. The animal was bolting and coming my way. My heart raced. I scanned either side of me, looking for a means of escaping the narrow lane, but the banks were too high to scramble up before the horse reached me.

He appeared around the corner at speed, his black ears flat against his head and nostrils flared. He was terrified. As was I. Panicked, I recalled seeing Pierre stepping in front of bolting horses to stop them escaping my father’s field when I was younger. Unable to get out of the animal’s way, I had little choice but to do the same and hope for the best.

I stretched my arms wide and stood perfectly still, forcing myself to speak, desperate to calm the horse. ‘Steady, boy,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘Steady now. You’re going to be fine.’

Startled to see me, the horse skidded to a halt, almost sitting as he slid towards me in the damp soil. I held my breath and stepped slowly towards him, keeping my arms low but in front of me ready to catch him.

‘That’s a good boy,’ I soothed. I reached out slowly and took the reins near his bridle in one hand and gently stroked the muscular neck that was already foaming with sweat. He was terrified and panting.

‘There, that’s it.’

I stroked his neck as he slowly calmed, trying to work out how to turn this enormous animal around in the narrow space without frightening him again. I knew enough about horses to know that sudden movement could startle nervous animals. Pierre had always insisted it was safer to be on top of a large animal. It was slippery in the confined space despite the hot weather, and I thought that the safest place for me to be, if I wasn’t to end up being trampled, was on the horse’s back.

When I thought him calm enough, I took hold of the reins in one hand, bunched up my skirts in the other and, slipping my left foot in the stirrup, mounted him. Then, taking a steadying breath, I stroked his neck again and, speaking to him calmly, pulled on the left rein and squeezed my left leg over his girth and my right leg further back, to signal for him to turn that way. I was surprised when he did as I asked and relieved that I remembered enough about riding with my father when I was young to be able to do this. I relaxed slightly and we were soon making our way back up the lane.

A short while later, I heard a groan, then saw an injured man, presumably the horse’s rider, holding his head with one hand as he tried to sit. There was blood in the pale gold hair. I brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. As my feet hit the ground, it dawned on me that I had been riding Theo Le Cerf’s stallion. I stifled a groan. Of all people needing my help, why did it have to be the one man I had been trying so hard to avoid?

He winced, then looked at me in disbelief. ‘You saved my horse.’

Not wishing him to get the wrong idea I quickly said, ‘I saved the horse because he could have been hurt, not because he belonged to you.’

He blinked several times and stared at me, obviously taken aback by my animosity. That snapped me out of my defensive reaction. He was hurt and here I was trying to prove a petty point. Embarrassed to have behaved in such a silly way, I knelt next to him. He stared into my eyes and I saw his suspicion.

‘I’m not going to cause you further harm,’ I said, wanting to make up for my initial reaction. ‘Is anything broken, do you think?’

He moved his arms slightly, then his legs and feet, and shook his head. ‘I don’t believe so. Only my pride.’

He was embarrassed that I was seeing him in this state. I wasn’t surprised, I’d have hated it if things were the other way around.

‘That’s good. Now I’m going to have to look at the damage to your head.’ I took the hand he was holding against the wound and lifted it enough to try and see the damage underneath. More blood seeped out.

He grimaced and closed his eyes briefly.

I could see he was in pain and as much as I would have liked to soothe him, I wasn’t going to chance feeling any more for him than I already had done at the dance. We were born enemies whether we liked it or not. His father killing my mother had seen to that.

I pushed my shoulders back, determined to act as professionally as possible. ‘We’re going to need something to help stem that bleeding if you’re to ride home.’

He frowned, the movement in his forehead making him wince. ‘And you have the means to do this?’

‘No, I don’t.’ I pointed up the hill. ‘I do know the woman who lives in the cottage further up. If you’re happy for me to leave you here for a little while, I’ll go and see if she has any crushed yarrow.’