CHAPTER FOUR

The sun was beginning to dip towards the west, but the warmth was still pleasant and the leaves of the surrounding trees flickered and sparkled in the bright light.

Her rescuer looked down at Susanna, suddenly frowning. "You'll certainly be an interesting companion, trying to march in that ridiculous sheet. Let alone offending me senses ! You'll never keep up with us, dearest. You'll trip at the first step. Where's yah clothes?"

"Never mind clothes," cackled another of the men, buckling on his sword over a new velvet doublet he had stolen from the house. "I'm not objecting to carrying a naked girl with us."

"Nor me," said another, pushing in. "You need help, lass? You just ask me. I'll have you over my shoulder in a wink and a blink."

A fourth man reached for her. "You drop that sheet, my dear, and I'll not have you over my shoulder – I'll have you somewhere else altogether." The smaller one was too shy to even use his voice, so just gazed up at her in awe. Thank God for small mercies, she thought.

"Shut yer cake 'oles, darlings. This won't do," the first man frowned as he looked her over. "You need clothes. You can't walk wrapped up like a barber's pole in a market. Not that a naked female would bovver me none, but me men would eat you for breakfast. What's your name, girl?"

She blushed. "Susanna."

"I's Lance Fayet. Laff, they call me, or Laf-Fayet." He performed a flamboyant bow before pausing a moment, thinking. Susanna was impatient, desperate to get away from the house and the danger it represented. But Laff shook his head. "I'll go back in and find some clothes for yer. There was pegs full o' the stuff in them garderobes." He turned to the men. "You lot look after her while I'm gone – and no funny business, or I'll have yer brains for a collar and your teeth for a necklace when I gets back." He turned to one of the men. "Jon – you come with me."

"Please hurry," Susanna begged. "The dog – and the man who captured me."

"There ain't no danger no more," insisted one of the other men. "There's no man in the house that we saw and we searched everyfink 'cept fer them cellars. And that bloody nasty big dog? Well we got it locked behind the cellar door we did – barking like crazy it is, but it can't get out. Killed four of our mates, and I'd have slaughtered the bugger if I could 'ave. But it was too vicious." He sighed with obvious regret.

"Come on, get a move on," Lance said, marching off towards the great front door of the house. "Or it'll be dark afore we're 'alf way back to camp."

It seemed only a few minutes later that the two soldiers returned, carrying armfuls of clothes between them. They dropped the assorted silks and velvets at Susanna's feet, but Lance kept a few himself. "Clothes to die for, these," he sighed. "Now, those people must've 'ad taste and money. Where are they now, I wonder?"

But Susanna had grabbed what she wanted and disappeared quickly behind the shadows of the trees. There she stopped, catching her breath. She gazed at the beautiful materials, and began to spread them out on the ground, seeing what she might wear. She had never seen such sumptuous clothes before, and had certainly never owned anything like it. To travel safely with the army, she had chosen boy's clothes. Her father had insisted on it. You'll not travel with the camp followers, he had told her. Those are whores and trollops, and I'll have no daughter of mine consorting with sluts or getting raped while I'm off fighting.

Now she struggled into the prettiest gown she had ever seen. First the long white shift of linen so fine and so well bleached she could almost see through it. There were silken stockings with pretty ribboned garters to hold them up, and a fichu of stiff white gauze to pin over her breasts. Then came the gown itself of rich red velvet with an embroidered hem and long flowing sleeves. She squeezed into it, twisting around to find the tiny buttons and hooks. The grand lady who had first owned these clothes would have had a lady's maid to help dress her. But Susanna had to manage on her own, panicking with fear for the men just beyond the trees who might suddenly decide to come and spy on her – but more especially for the man who had abducted her. Eric was constantly in her thoughts and she could hardly breathe for terror. But strangely she couldn't help praying he hadn't been killed in all the chaos.

At last she was dressed. She could do nothing about her hair, and there was no head dress in the pile, but she slipped on little blue leather shoes, which thankfully only pinched a little. She hurried back to Lance, who was waiting impatiently. He had clearly enjoyed searching for the clothes himself, and now wore a grand surcoat dripping gold embroidered velvets and fur trimmings, and a very elaborate hat with a large green feather curled around the brim, although these looked ludicrous with his dusty chain mail and old leather tunic. He turned as he heard her approach, and grinned. "Well now," he said. "These ain't perfect for marchin' I'm sure. But we best get going – and hurry now. I want back to camp by morning." He stepped over to her and tweaked her costume, then stepped back to admire his work. The feather in his hat was so large that he had to blow at it to keep from eating fluff as he spoke. "I could do better with more time, I've a reputation to keep, but it'll 'ave to do for now."

Susanna repressed a smile. Until she realised what he had said, then all thoughts of smiling left her. As did most of her colour!

"Travelling in the dark?" Susanna whispered fearfully.

"You'd sooner pass the night sleeping in that nice big 'ouse?" chuckled one of the men. "Well – I'll keep ya company."

Susanna shivered. "No, let's hurry and get back to camp," she said at once. "My father will wonder where I am. He'll be most grateful to you I'm sure, once he knows how you rescued me." She wasn't comfortable explaining her real fear, for some reason she wanted to keep those secrets to herself.

"Long as it makes a fine excuse for us desertin'," Laff said. "We'll not get a thrashing from the captain if we make out it was all for helping a damsel in distress."

They set off through the trees and Susanna kept close to the leader. Laff walked fast, and all the soldiers were well used to long marches. Gradually the shadows lengthened and a hazy twilight slipped through the tree branches. Without the sun, it became chilly. Susanna's little dancing shoes were soon damp and more than pinching now, but her thick velvet gown kept her warmer than she might have expected. Laff was whistling, enjoying the swing of his beautiful coat and sleeves. When an owl suddenly hooted above them, Susanna froze, terrified, but Laff laughed at her. She shook her head. "What if we're being followed. By him?"

"Nah, there's nuffing to worry bout while your with us darling, there's five of us, an only one o' him. An that's if he even knows you're gone yet. We've not seen hide no hair o' the bugger, so what if he never comes back?" She wondered at his happy go lucky attitude, but it did help her relax a bit.

They made good time under the circumstances. The moon's glow shone through to the forest floor and Susanna was beginning to feel a little calmer, when a sudden chill ran through her heart like a spear, glancing around in panic. She realised the others had felt it too. They were all staring up through the trees when complete darkness overshadowed the partial moon. It was as though a great shadow had crossed the sky, and the forest's quiet increased with the darkness. An unnatural chill made each man shiver, with trickles of ice down their collars. Then, as suddenly as the unpleasant sensation had arrived, so it disappeared just as quickly. But there was no sense of relief that came with it.

No one wanted to voice their fears or guess as to what had just happened, and yet they all suddenly quickened their pace as if the devil was on their tails. Susanna of course had more idea of what it could have been, but again she kept her thoughts to herself. But now her pulse raced and she wondered if she would ever make it back to the camp and her father's protection.

Nothing more happened through the long dark hours. They all tramped on, stumbling over exposed roots of trees, starting nervously at unusual shadows, but keeping up the pace. Susanna was exhausted but she never fell behind. She did not dare. Inspite of her long skirts which clung to her legs and hampered her stride, she walked beside Laff and did not complain of tiredness, hunger or headache.

Laff was not a peaceful companion. He grumbled to himself as he marched, bemoaning the destiny which had created him son of a poor man, instead of a lord who might have continuously bought such grand clothes as the surcoat he now proudly wore. Yet his new flowing velvet hems and sweeping sleeves often caught on twigs and thorns, and his beautiful hat slipped frequently over his eyes, the magnificent feather making him sneeze. Susanna might have laughed if she had not been so frightened. Each scuffle of some small night animal made her jump and each sudden noise seemed like a threat.

But as dawn slipped rosy pink above the treetops, they saw before them the twinkling light of torches where two large tents were pegged, their flags flying in the little breeze. Between the tents and circled around a dozen smoky cooking fires, a hundred men were sprawled, wrapped in their cloaks and snoring to the stars. To the far side were the barrows and carts of the camp followers, arrows and spare axes, knives and pikes heaped beneath canvas. Women curled beside the carts' wheels or beneath the barrows' boards, small children gathered in their arms, or a soldier snorting complacently on their shoulders. At some distance from the Scottish boarders, here the camp had settled in peace, ready to face the skirmishes of the following day.

As the rising sun streaked the sky's clouds, so the camp began to stir. Men coughed, struggled up and tramped off into the undergrowth to relieve themselves. The women woke, put some whimpering infant to their breast, or began to prepare their men's breakfasts, setting kettles over the campfires, scooping oats into the simmering water. There were goats to be milked, the battered beer tubs to be tapped, and cups of ale to be shared amongst the men.

Then as Susanna and the companions of their night's march hurried down the slope towards the welcoming smells of hot porridge, a horse galloped from the forest's darkness, and the messenger dismounted at the largest of the two tents. Within a minute, a large well armoured man came out and spoke to some of the men. They immediately set up a cheer. Someone shouted. "Hooray! The war's off, a peace treaty is signed with them Scots bastards, and it's off home for all of us. Cheer up, lads. We'll be home afore harvest, and time to make more mewling brats afore Christmas."

Laff turned to Susanna with a chuckle. "Good news, darling. They'll not be planning to whip us bloody for deserting after all. The buggers'll be too busy packing up."

"Hurry then," said one of the other men. "Let's get this over with."

Susanna was peering through the last trees, trying to make out the swarthy figure of her father. She saw him at last, cheerfully slapping the rump of one of the camp followers. So much for missing her, or worrying about the disappearance of his only daughter. So she left Laf-Fayet's side and picking up her skirts, began to run the last few steps down the slope into the golden circle of torchlight.

He looked up suddenly, hearing the running footsteps, and his expression turned immediately from pleasant anticipation to a furious scowl. Susanna, her heart still in her throat, stopped at once and her thankful smile faded.

"What's the matter?" she stuttered.

"You, you whore," her father yelled in her face. "What do you mean, disappearing for two days and coming back all dressed up in those fineries. What man have you been with then? I'll cut the bugger's prick off and feed it to the chickens. I'll hand the scum over to the captain for a good thrashing. I told you to dress in boy's clothes, and here you are bold as brass in fancy trollop's satins and a stupid smile on your face. You stand there – ," he pointed with one quivering finger as he began to unbuckle his belt, his face getting redder by the minute. "While I give you the whipping of your life. No daughter of mine will act the harlot while I'm alive. I brought you along with me to look after me – not to help yourself to all and sundry." He yanked hard at the fixings on the back of her bodice, baring her back for punishment.

The first strike fell, and Susanna remembered very little after that.