-You are reading episodes of THE POWER IN THE DARK, which is Book 1 of THE
ANCIENT BLOODLINES TRILOGY by Barry Mathias. ISBN: 9781897435113
CHAPTER 15
The rain pummelled down, drenching the riders. Their capes no longer hung loosely over their shoulders, but clung, sodden to their backs, like thick skins. The path was waterlogged and difficult to follow, and the wind howled in their ears and buffeted them with powerful gusts. The pace slowed, until at last they were only able to proceed at walking speed.
Their route took them close to the village of Avon, but there was no news of the foreign soldiers, and the villagers were distrustful of such a large body of horsemen.
"This road takes us directly to Christchurch, but we are no longer in sight of the river," Sir Richard said. They had stopped near a grove of large oak trees, and the men were getting what shelter they could. "I think we would be wasting time if we kept striking out for the river to check if they are in sight." The other two knights nodded their agreement. Sir Richard wiped the rain from his lined face. "If we press on we may reach the castle before nightfall; at the very least we can get some shelter from this accursed weather. At the best, we may get word of their position before they reach the mouth of the river."
Gwen was no longer enjoying the journey, but her mind was composed, and she was determined to accept the discomforts. While the knights were cursing the weather and the tardiness of the other riders, she stood quietly by the side of her horse, patting its neck, and saying nothing. There was a chance to eat, but few had any appetite.
John had pressed on to the village of Sopley, with two of Sir Richard's more experienced men, to seek information. The village was close and John returned before the main group left the shelter of the trees. He was feeling more confident of his riding ability, and was beginning to enjoy the experience, in spite of his unease about the outcome of the expedition.
"The enemy are some way ahead of us, my Lord," he reported to Sir Richard. "The boat passed down the river at about midday; it was seen by some fishermen. They said the men on board were like black devils, and the villagers were too scared to continue fishing." He smiled. "Which was lucky for us, or we would not have had the report."
"Well, we are still in the race," Sir Richard said. "We seem to have lost two more men. Lame horses so the others tell me."
"Lame horses!" Simon scoffed, as they rode away. "Lame hearts more likely!"
At times the rain eased and they would dare to hope it would stop, but always their expectations were dashed when the deluge renewed itself with increased ferocity. Cold and exhaustion were beginning to take their toll, and it was only the prospect of dry quarters in the castle at Christchurch that prevented others from dropping out. From bits of conversation he overheard, John understood that most of the men were quite happy not to catch up with the foreign soldiers.
It was still light when they came upon two ragged men pulling a small cart which was filled with fish. The fisherman smiled awkwardly at the knights, fearful of what they might do.
"How far is it to Christchurch?" Sir Richard bellowed. His voice was carried away by the wind.
"Ye'll be there by dark if ye trots a bit, m'Lord," one of the men answered.
"Where is your boat?" Simon shouted.
The men looked anxiously at each other. "We be poor men, sir. The boat is owned by all our family."
"I didn't ask for the history of your family!" Simon roared. "Tell me where your boat is!"
The men looked quite beaten. "M'Lord, the boat is over there," the older man indicated with his hand towards a small path joining the road. " 'Tis only a very small craft," he added.
