She turned. On her way in she gave some orders to the nun at her side, who at once hastened ahead of her.
Soon more lanterns began to appear. In their dim light figures gathered, whispered and hurried to and fro. The other half of the big door was swung back. Hoofs stamped. Chains jingled. From a stable on the left side of the courtyard a pair of horses were led out on to the cobbled paving. Then a coach was pulled into position, facing the open gates. The horses were backed in and harnessed. A driver with a whip in his hand climbed to the seat. The Abbess appeared again with the heavily cloaked figures of three women following her. She beckoned Barbara into the yard, opening the coach door herself. With no sign of anger or resistance left in her, the Countess came obediently forward. She smiled a farewell to the Abbess and stepped into the carriage. Mollie jumped in and took a seat beside her. The three women followed and the door closed.
Outside on the lawn, the King’s Finder mounted his horse, with a deep sigh of relief. And as the coach rattled out through the gate, he touched Midnight on the neck and fell in behind.
13 The watchers on the terrace
In a quiet corner of the castle terrace Luke was seated on a stone bench. He was looking out across the country spread below, and particularly at the long white lines of roads that ran out farther than a man could see. Every once in a while he would spring forward to the parapet, peering with screwed-up eyes as though to make something out. But always, disappointed, he returned to his seat.
Presently he heard footsteps running along the terrace, and Anne arrived.
‘Well, have you seen him yet?’ she cried breathlessly.
‘Seen who?’ grunted Luke.
‘Giles, of course.’
‘Oh, gracious, no!’ said he, shaking his head with a frown of annoyance. ‘It’s much too early to expect him yet. It’s barely three o’clock.’
‘Then why are you sitting here?’ asked Anne.
‘Oh, I just came down to—er—to—’
‘You came here to watch for Giles,’ said she, sitting on the bench beside him. ‘And don’t you try to deny it.’
‘And why did you come here?’ asked Luke, still looking out over the landscape.
‘I came to tell you about the cat. I’m sure it’s Agnes’s.’
‘Why?’
‘Listen,’ said she, lowering her voice. ‘It helped me make a fire just now. I thought the Countess might like one in her room when she gets back. And as we are not letting the servants into her apartments for the present, I got some wood and kindling and started to build it myself. And suddenly the cat appeared at my elbow and began handing me the sticks, in its mouth, the same as I saw it do in the Applewoman’s hut long ago. It’s Agnes’s, sure enough.—Oh, look, is that horses coming, way over there on the middle road?’
Luke peered into the distance.
‘No,’ said he presently. ‘Only the dust blowing up from the highway. I’ve been fooled by that a dozen times already. That’s the four corners by Gerard’s Mill. It’s always windy there. How is the King now?’
‘The surgeon is still with him,’ Anne answered. ‘And you’d never guess who the surgeon is: it’s that old Doctor Seymour from our town, you remember? It seems he has become very famous since. But how on earth do you suppose the King came by such an accident, Luke? They say he stumbled and fell. Yet if he has not regained his senses since they picked him up, I don’t see how they know. Maybe someone hit him or something. Who was the first to find him?’
‘The Count Godfrey,’ said Luke. ‘He, at all events, is sure it was an accident. It seems he was on his way up to the royal apartments when he found the King lying at the foot of the tower stairs. He called me down to help. It looked like a badly sprained back to us—with a bump on his temple where his head had struck the stone steps. No bones broken. No signs of a struggle.’
‘Couldn’t the bump have been made by somebody hitting him?’ asked Anne. ‘Oh, I wish Giles were here!’
‘So do I,’ said Luke. ‘But he couldn’t help the King in this. Giles is no surgeon.’
‘I wish he were here, just the same,’ said Anne. ‘He might be able to find the man who did it. I am by no means sure the King wasn’t struck down by some enemies. Maybe the same people had something to do with the Countess’s disappearance, too.’
‘Oh, how you talk!’ cried Luke irritably. ‘I told you the message Giles gave me to bring: there was no kidnapping. Barbara is safe and sound. Why suspect anyone? It wasn’t half an hour after I had carried the message to the King that Count Godfrey called to me. It must have been an accident—a natural one, too. His Majesty hadn’t eaten anything since Barbara went. You’ve seen him yourself—as pale as a ghost. Well, a sudden fit of faintness as he was coming down those dizzy winding stairs; he stumbles and there you have it.’
‘Was he very glad to get Giles’s message?’ asked Anne.
‘Um—er—yes,’ said Luke, frowning. ‘He was overjoyed to hear no harm had come to her. Then he asked no end of questions, trying to learn more from me. But I could tell him nothing further—merely that your brother had galloped off into the night after giving me those few words—which I had brought to him in nine hours of the fastest riding a man ever did.’
‘Yes, you certainly wasted no time, to get here so early,’ said Anne.
‘When the King found that I had no further news,’ Luke went on, ‘he grew very solemn and thoughtful. He seemed to be puzzling over something.’
‘Maybe,’ said Anne slowly, ‘he was wondering why Barbara went away—since she wasn’t carried away.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Luke sharply.
‘Oh, look!’ cried Anne, again rushing to the parapet. ‘See, over there, on the other road. Can that be Giles now?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ snapped Luke. ‘It’s a herd of cattle. Do stop jumping about!’
‘Oh, I wish he’d come!’ sighed Anne, sinking back on the seat. ‘You do think he will, don’t you, Luke? There are robbers on those roads, you know.’
‘Of course he’ll come,’ said Luke. ‘He’s able to take care of himself—and Barbara too. Don’t worry. Tell me: what did Doctor Seymour say when he last came from the King’s room?’
‘Oh, a whole lot about vertebrains—or something,’ said Anne. ‘He is not worried over the lump on the temple. It’s the back, he says, will give the most trouble. Badly wrenched—perhaps injured for life. I don’t think much of that old physic-monger. He does a powerful lot of talking, but he doesn’t do anything. And the King is still unconscious. Neither does the Queen Mother, I fancy, place much faith in Seymour. Poor lady! She’s beside herself with worry.’
‘Have all the guests gone yet?’ asked Luke.
‘Almost all,’ said Anne. ‘They have had some sore hurrying to do, to get packed and everything. It was feared that some of them might take offence at being asked to depart at such short notice. But the Queen Mother went round to each one and explained that the King’s accident had put off the wedding—she could not say for how long. She told them that Doctor Seymour had asked for absolute quiet in and around the castle. I must say they all behaved extremely well, expressed their deep regrets and went off as quietly as they could.’
‘Well, you for one, are glad that’s over, I’ll wager,’ said Luke.