“I’m not fae,” I said. “I’m a goddess. And, no, it was made by humans, magic ones, but humans nonetheless.”
“Druids?”
“No, witches, I think.” I looked down at the horse, remembering the story. “It was, what, a thousand years ago? The lowlands were being terrorised by a herd of horses that ate human flesh. The warriors gathered together and managed to kill all but one, the stallion. The beast was enormous, pure white, and no fighter in the land could bring him down. Eventually a witch, I forget her name now, sold the warriors a spell to defeat him. The second bravest of them scattered meat beneath a tree and waited in the branches until the stallion came to feed. When the horse was eating, the warrior leapt onto his back and, saying the words of the spell, rode him into the hillside where the Chalk captured him and turned him into the carving you see now.”
“The second bravest?” said Belis. “Why the second bravest? Why not send the bravest?”
“The bravest warrior was the meat,” I said.
She blinked at that. I let her stare at the horse a little longer before clearing my throat.
“The White Horse marks the next stage of our journey,” I said. “From here we turn north, head for Glevum and the River Severn.”
“How far is it?”
“To the Severn or to Caer Sidi?”
“Both.”
I thought about it, picturing in my mind the lands we had to travel.
“If we maintain my current pace we should reach the banks of the Severn in three days’ time. Then another two weeks travelling through Silurian territory.”
Belis flexed her fingers, then balled them into fists. I could see the tension running through her like a vein of tin ore through granite. She set her jaw, making a decision.
“So far to go. We need to make better time. Come on,” she said, striding off down the hill.
So brusque still, I thought, as I gingerly followed her, taking small, tentative steps. Walking down slopes, especially those as steep as these, was tricky and Belis was forced to wait for me at the bottom. She was looking up at the horse as it gleamed in the sun.
“Someday I’d like to bring Cati here,” she said, half to herself. “She would like it, I think. I might keep that story to myself, though.”
I gave a noncommittal mumble of agreement. It was the first time she had mentioned her sister in five days. She sniffed and set off again.
The sloping hills around us flattened into arable land, wide golden fields of wheat and barley. Belis insisted that we walk next to the hedgerows, in order not to stand out against the horizon. I complained a little, just to show I couldn’t be ordered around, but I didn’t mind it much. It was a relief to get out of the wind and walk in the cool shade. There were the beginnings of the autumn berry crop and we feasted on blackberries, raspberries and blackcurrants as we walked. The juices stained my fingers and I could tell from looking at Belis that half of my face must be as well. The sweetness seemed doubled after a week of watery stew and even the thorns that tore long scratches on my arms couldn’t douse my good mood.
We stopped early that day, in a stand of trees between four fields. Belis weighed the urge to cover more ground against the risk of us not finding somewhere with cover to camp. Eventually I decided for us, sitting down and beginning to unlace my boots.
“It’ll be at least a few more miles ’til we find somewhere else to stay for the night,” I reasoned, sliding off my socks with a sigh of pleasure. “And I’m beat for the day.”
“You could move with a little more urgency,” Belis snapped, rubbing her chin as she thought.
“I could. I could have run there and back a dozen times a night. I can’t now. And whose fault is that?”
She snarled at me and took off into the wood. I shrugged off my pack and sat back against a tree, stretching out the muscles in my legs. I doubted Belis would go far; she’d collect some dead wood for the fire and maybe try to trap something. I hoped she caught a wood pigeon; I couldn’t face rabbit again. I let my eyes flutter shut and tried to relax and enjoy the solitude. I could imagine things as they were before.
Something snapped behind the tree. The wind carried the faint but characteristic clink of plate armour towards me. I froze, unsure whether to risk running. I would have little chance of escaping. I felt absurdly vulnerable, alone.
A hand came down over my mouth. I jumped, but it was only Belis, crouching beside me and holding a finger to her lips. I nodded and she removed her hand. She dipped her head towards the east, where the sounds had come from, then mimed something walking towards us. I nodded again and she pointed up the trunk of the tree: she wanted us to climb it. As quietly as possible I slid my boots on and grabbed my socks, stuffing them into my tunic. Belis made a lattice with her fingers and boosted me up to the first branch. I swung myself up then leaned back down to pull her up behind me. The effort almost knocked me back down again, but we managed it in the end. The elm was old enough that the branches were thick and easy to climb and we clambered higher until the curtain of leaves hid us from view.
I looked over at where Belis had stretched out on her branch. She held a finger to her lips again then pointed down and pretended to hold a hand to her ear.
Below us the metallic clank of armour was growing louder, along with the stomping of hobnailed sandals. A male voice filtered up through the branches.
“Come on, sir, let’s take a breather.” The voice was deep, rounding out the harsh Latin consonants of the words.
“We saw them walking this way, they can’t be far ahead of us,” a second man snapped back.
“They’ll be stopping for the night in a few hours, we’ll have a better chance at catching them then,” the first man cajoled. “Themen are knackered, centurion, they’ve been marching for two days straight. Give them a few minutes to take a drink.”
