Foxe. 'Come,' he said, 'this is an evil place. We should not linger here.'
Mrs Foxe stared at him in surprise. 'But, Samuel, should I not go after Lady Vaughan, so that I may comfort her in her grief?'
'No, Madam. The Captain is in attendance by the body, and will offer the widow consolation, but for yourself and for your son - you should not see what lies in that darkness, for it is not to be borne. Please.' He spurred his horse forward. 'Let us escape the shadow of these trees.'
The Sergeant rode with them until the wood had been left behind, and Salisbury could be seen in the valley below. Then he turned in his saddle, and pointed up at the rampart of Old Sarum where it emerged from the trees. Figures could be seen standing there, in the uniform of militiamen. 'Wait for your husband there, Madam.' He bowed his head. 'Farewell.' He wheeled his horse, and galloped away along the track.
Robert watched him depart; then followed his mother up the hill towards the summit of Old Sarum. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the militiamen on the rampart; and then suddenly, he started, and seized his mother's arm. 'Is that not Father?' he asked. 'There, coming down?'
For a moment Mrs Foxe sat frozen; then she spurred her horse on, for she could hear her husband's cries - how frantic they were, as he came running towards her, down the rampart and across the open field. 'What are you doing here?' he screamed. 'Both of you, what are you doing in this place?'
Mrs Foxe swung down from her saddle and ran into his arms. 'There was no danger,' she said breathlessly, 'for we were brought here by Sergeant Everard.'
Captain Foxe gazed at her in consternation. 'But Sergeant Everard has been missing since just after dawn, he and his entire patrol, all save one, who has been found just now some miles from here, killed, his skull caved in.'
'But . .. but .. . Samuel's patrol was with us. They brought us here to see Sir Henry's corpse.'
'Sir Henry is no corpse.' Captain Foxe pointed towards the rampart. 'See, where he walks and breathes, a living man yet.'
Mrs Foxe shook her head dumbly. She tried to speak, but horror strangled her words.
'Lady Vaughan,' said Robert. 'She and Emily, they are in the wood. We left them there.'
Captain Foxe, like his wife, seemed unable to speak. For a moment, he could only stare at Robert; then he seized his wife's horse and, clambering into its saddle, galloped as fast as he could urge the horse to go. Robert followed him. The meaning of what he had just said still seemed unreal; he could not believe that Emily might truly be in danger - that Emily might be dead. And then, as he felt his stomach rise and become air in his mouth, he did believe it. He looked ahead of him, where his father had already reached the summit of the hill and had dismounted. He was screaming orders to his men, and troopers were spilling out amidst the trees. Robert followed them; he headed into the ruins of the castle, tripping once across a grass-covered stone, then over the root of an old gnarled yew, but never stopping - stumbling forward until he was slipping through the mud down the side of the far rampart, towards the wood where he had last seen Emily alive, and which was waiting for him, menacing, and dark, and still.
He hurried through the trees. Suddenly, the silence was broken. Robert heard a cry of horror, and then a second, both ahead of him, and then from all sides there was the sound of people crashing through the undergrowth, hurrying in the direction of the voices. Robert recognised his father, a dim form through the branches and shadows; he followed him, then shrank back as they approached a clearing where two men were kneeling over something in the mud. The soldiers looked round at the approach of Captain Foxe; they rose to their feet and, as his father walked forward into the glade, Robert felt his own legs give way beneath him. He knelt in the mud, and forced himself to look again. He could barely recognise
Mrs Foxe stared at him in surprise. 'But, Samuel, should I not go after Lady Vaughan, so that I may comfort her in her grief?'
'No, Madam. The Captain is in attendance by the body, and will offer the widow consolation, but for yourself and for your son - you should not see what lies in that darkness, for it is not to be borne. Please.' He spurred his horse forward. 'Let us escape the shadow of these trees.'
The Sergeant rode with them until the wood had been left behind, and Salisbury could be seen in the valley below. Then he turned in his saddle, and pointed up at the rampart of Old Sarum where it emerged from the trees. Figures could be seen standing there, in the uniform of militiamen. 'Wait for your husband there, Madam.' He bowed his head. 'Farewell.' He wheeled his horse, and galloped away along the track.
Robert watched him depart; then followed his mother up the hill towards the summit of Old Sarum. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the militiamen on the rampart; and then suddenly, he started, and seized his mother's arm. 'Is that not Father?' he asked. 'There, coming down?'
For a moment Mrs Foxe sat frozen; then she spurred her horse on, for she could hear her husband's cries - how frantic they were, as he came running towards her, down the rampart and across the open field. 'What are you doing here?' he screamed. 'Both of you, what are you doing in this place?'
Mrs Foxe swung down from her saddle and ran into his arms. 'There was no danger,' she said breathlessly, 'for we were brought here by Sergeant Everard.'
Captain Foxe gazed at her in consternation. 'But Sergeant Everard has been missing since just after dawn, he and his entire patrol, all save one, who has been found just now some miles from here, killed, his skull caved in.'
'But . .. but .. . Samuel's patrol was with us. They brought us here to see Sir Henry's corpse.'
'Sir Henry is no corpse.' Captain Foxe pointed towards the rampart. 'See, where he walks and breathes, a living man yet.'
Mrs Foxe shook her head dumbly. She tried to speak, but horror strangled her words.
'Lady Vaughan,' said Robert. 'She and Emily, they are in the wood. We left them there.'
Captain Foxe, like his wife, seemed unable to speak. For a moment, he could only stare at Robert; then he seized his wife's horse and, clambering into its saddle, galloped as fast as he could urge the horse to go. Robert followed him. The meaning of what he had just said still seemed unreal; he could not believe that Emily might truly be in danger - that Emily might be dead. And then, as he felt his stomach rise and become air in his mouth, he did believe it. He looked ahead of him, where his father had already reached the summit of the hill and had dismounted. He was screaming orders to his men, and troopers were spilling out amidst the trees. Robert followed them; he headed into the ruins of the castle, tripping once across a grass-covered stone, then over the root of an old gnarled yew, but never stopping - stumbling forward until he was slipping through the mud down the side of the far rampart, towards the wood where he had last seen Emily alive, and which was waiting for him, menacing, and dark, and still.
He hurried through the trees. Suddenly, the silence was broken. Robert heard a cry of horror, and then a second, both ahead of him, and then from all sides there was the sound of people crashing through the undergrowth, hurrying in the direction of the voices. Robert recognised his father, a dim form through the branches and shadows; he followed him, then shrank back as they approached a clearing where two men were kneeling over something in the mud. The soldiers looked round at the approach of Captain Foxe; they rose to their feet and, as his father walked forward into the glade, Robert felt his own legs give way beneath him. He knelt in the mud, and forced himself to look again. He could barely recognise
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