The Wise Women

Part 3: Chapter 20

Three days later, Nesta found herself riding through the forest, next to the Burned One on the front of Leonia's cart, pulled by her dapple grey. Ada rode beside them on the unicorn who had once again disguised himself as an ordinary horse, and on their other side rode Leonia on one of the Village's piebald mares.

They trekked in silence to the sounds of the woodland birds calling to each other and the soft footfalls of the horses. Nesta frantically ran through the plan in her head, desperately trying to remember all the things she'd learnt over the last few days. They'd set out at daybreak and had travelled all day under grey skies, copper-coloured leaves fluttering down from the trees all around them. By evening they were in the woods behind Castle Stormont.

The sky was tinged with orange when they arrived at last in a grassy clearing.

'We'll camp here,' the Burned One leaned back, pulling the cart to a halt and clambered down. Ada swung off the unicorn and gently removed his saddle and bridle. She leaned her forehead against the creature's neck and stroked his mane. He whickered and nuzzled her cheek in reply before turning and trotting off into the depths of the forest.

The Wise Women pitched their tents, not daring to light a fire lest the smoke be visible from the castle. They sat on the grass in silence and ate the dinner Margery had packed for them - hunks of tangy white cheese, dark seeded bread, crisp apples, soft chestnut buns and rich slices of Margery's honey cake. The two horses cropped the grass nearby. A red squirrel scampered up Ada's cloak and perched on her shoulder. She fed it crumbs absentmindedly.

In her head, Nesta listed the members of the royal household as she ate:

Master of the Horse - Sir Ferdinand Oakley, the Empress calls him Ferdy. Tall, broad-shouldered, thick shoulder length black hair, clean shaven, dark skinned, rumoured to have Erithean blood, taciturn, rarely leaves the stables, the only person Sapphira trusts to care for her beloved black Arabian stallion - Onyx.

Mistress of the Robes - Lady Lettice Fortescue, the Empress calls her Lettie. Average height but looks tall because she wears very high heels, plump, white hair elaborately braided, permanent pout, long nose which she likes to look down at people, looks after the Empress's robes and jewellery.

Lord Chamberlain - Sir Richard Lombard, the Empress calls him Dickie, short, bald, thick grey eyebrows, slightly hunched, lisps, excessively deferential, advises the Empress on matters of state.

Lady of the Bedchamber - Lady Alice Montague, the Empress calls her Alice, tall, auburn hair usually styled into two braids and coiled on either side of her head, pale skin, high-pitched voice, Quaini accent, piercing green eyes, never smiles, helps the Empress bathe and dress . . .

'We'll sing the song of gratitude followed by the evening song.' The Burned One interrupted her thoughts. 'Then we should all try and get some sleep.'

Nesta lay in the tent, the ground hard beneath her. Wrapped in blankets, she huddled against the cold. Sleep had never seemed further away. Her eyes were frozen open, her mind chuntered on in the same vein it had all day:

Lord Steward - Sir Hector Musgrove, the Empress calls him Uncle Hector, average height, thin, brown hair greying at the temples, moustache, deep gravelly voice, wears a gold chain of office, manages the day to day affairs of the royal . . .

'Nesta!' She looked up to see the Burned One kneeling beside her, wrinkled face frowning down at her with concern. 'You need to rest, dear one. I will calm your mind. Breathe in as deeply as you can,' The Burned One narrowed her eyes. Nesta breathed as bidden. The air smelt of damp earth. 'Hold it for a moment. Now breathe it all out.'